


You Can Have Your Dreams (But You Can't Have Me)

by WitchofEndor



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, BAMF Tony Stark, But He is Trapped in a Tower, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Sick Tony Stark, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Is Not a Princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchofEndor/pseuds/WitchofEndor
Summary: Tony has been stuck in a tower his whole life, but he isn’t a damsel in distress – he’s just sick, and leaving would probably kill him. But nowadays the tower is starting to feel less like protection and more like a prison.Featuring an unfrozen neighbour, a caring father figure and/or guardian monster, the Avengers assembling against all odds, and Tony’s unwavering genius (and equally unwavering stupidity).(Loosely based on the movie Everything, Everything. Even more loosely based on Rapunzel.)





	1. When Will My Life Begin?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Not The Boy Next Door (The Boy from Oz). 
> 
> This story is very loosely based on the movie Everything, Everything (basically just the premise). Everything about Tony's illness is based on information from that movie and Google, so I apologise for any incorrect science!
> 
> Chapter titles based on various songs from 'Tangled', along with the song lyrics, because... just because.

_And I’ll keep wondering_  
_and wondering_  
_and wondering_  
_and wondering:_

_When will my life begin?_

 

“Tony!” Pepper’s voice cut through the music, in that distinct tone it got when it was the fourth or fifth time she had called his name.

Tony jumped back from the desk, waving a hand to close down some of the schematics he’d been working on. “J, music down,” he requested, and grinned when his AI followed orders seamlessly. “Pepper, Pep, how can I help you?”

Pepper was standing with a stack of papers in her hands, a thermometer perched on top. She raised one eyebrow. “Why did the voice of an old British man tell me that it was a good time to check up on you?”

“You’ve already met JARVIS!” Tony replied. “Say hello, J.”

“ _Good afternoon, Miss Potts_ ,” JARVIS said, the picture of politeness. “ _It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance_.”

Pepper’s face did the scrunchy thing that it did when Tony was being both very impressive and very worrying. “So this is what you meant when you said ‘improving AI’, Tony?” At Tony’s answering smile, she added: “How long until he kills us all?”

“J, no killing us all, okay?” Tony suggested.

“ _Miss Potts, I assure you that Sir’s wellbeing is my ultimate goal._ ”

Pepper heaved a sigh, and placed her papers down on the desk. “Speaking of your wellbeing,” she said, “Mr Stane emailed these over for you to sign. Open up.”

Tony opened his mouth for the thermometer, and dutifully began to sign the papers. Well, most of them. Every few papers he slid across into the ‘no’ pile, and one even made the ‘!!!???’ pile. It was an improvement; usually Obie sent over at least four for that particular category.

Pepper plucked the thermometer from Tony’s mouth. “You’re not building yourself a new nurse-slash-PA, are you?”

“Pepper,” Tony replied. “Pep, light of my life, could I ever replace you? Could any AI really force me to into haircuts and make me wear pants on Skype calls? Okay, I could probably build something to cut my hair, but the Skype thing still counts.”

Pepper shook her head, but Tony could tell she was supressing a smile. “Your temperature is good. Dinner will be ready at seven – JARVIS, could you remind Tony every five minutes from six-thirty?”

“ _I would be glad to, Miss Potts_.”

“Teaming up on me already,” Tony muttered.

“I want to take your blood pressure again later. I’ll be leaving around seven-thirty, and Mr Stane said he’ll be home around nine. If you feel unwell at all during that time—”

Tony interrupted her with, “I’ll call you and you’ll come a-running, I know. Y’know, I could probably get JARVIS to do all of that for me. JARVIS, can you access Pepper’s cell number?”

“ _I am programmed to only access information with your permission, Sir._ ”

“Great, you have permission to access all my phone contacts, and Pep is our In Case of Medical Emergency, got it?”

Tony was already working on his projects again – a prototype for a new StarkPhone, just for when Pep was still in his workshop, although actually now that he thought about it he had some ideas for how to improve on the UI – but he slid a glance across to Pepper in time to see her pleased expression.

“As long as he doesn’t end up killing you,” she said, “then the new robot butler is okay with me. But maybe think about how to introduce him to Mr Stane.”

Tony made a few quick notes about his UI ideas, then added: “Ah, about that. Don’t say anything to Obie.” He could practically sense Pepper’s unimpressed look. “I’m not asking you to lie – I know who’s your real boss here, Pep, you’re not fooling anyone – just don’t bring it up. J knows he’s on silent mode around Obie, and I’m going to think about how to, uh, how to frame the issue before I bring it up, that’s all.”

“How to frame the issue,” Pepper replied, voice flat.

“How to frame the issue,” Tony pressed on, “because, as we both know, Obie has a tendency to get a little… A little. You know.”

_Paranoid and controlling_ , Tony thought in her direction, not quite daring to say it out loud.

Pepper sighed. “He just wants you to be safe.”

“And I am safe!” Tony exclaimed, gesturing with one hand to his general safeness and wellbeing, while his other hand continued to move numbers on the holographic prototype he’d brought up. “Look, look at how safe I am! I am a boy in a bubble, that’s how safe I am. But now I am a boy in a bubble with someone to talk to when you’re gone.”

Tony knew he’d said the wrong thing as soon as it left his mouth. He hid a wince by ducking his head and bringing up some more holographic models.

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper replied. “You have people to talk to.”

“The guys down in R&D have started hanging up on me due to my ‘condescending tone’, but you know what, I’d be less condescending if at least one of them could R or D themselves out of a paper bag.”

They both knew what Tony wasn’t saying, which was that he only really had the one friend, and Rhodey was on deployment right now. He still sometimes managed to call – apparently having a best friend who was literally stuck in a tower gave him some leeway – but Tony had officially gone from regular contact with three people to two. It might have been grating on him a little.

“You could try playing nicer with the other kids, you know,” Pepper suggested. “They look up to you.”

“They don’t look to me at all, we do audio-only now that they caught me without pants that one time.”

Pepper was definitely smiling behind that hand. “Dinner’s at seven, Tony. Don’t be late. I will not be late to another date just because my charge refuses to leave his workshop.”

* * *

 

Pepper left on time, as she always did, and she also left with worry lines on her forehead, as she always did. Sometimes Tony felt like she was on the verge of deciding to move into the tower with him, just to make sure he had 24/7 supervision, as if Obie didn’t work a few scant floors below Tony’s workshop and as if he weren’t always being monitored in some manner.

Tony sat in the window nook of the main room with a tablet on his lap. It was his favourite place in the tower, aside from his workshop.

He only had access to three floors, all of which were sectioned off from the rest of the tower by large decontamination areas. The bottom floor was his workshop – had been his dad’s workshop, once – and if it weren’t for Pepper’s constant conversations about ‘mental and physical health’, he’d probably have spent all his time down there. The top floor was Tony’s state-of-the-art gym. And the middle floor was his living area, which included the kitchen, main room, and his and Obie’s rooms. Obie had another bedroom on his own floor, but it was often easier for him to stay here than to visit – considering the decontamination situation – and so he’d half-moved into Tony’s dad’s old room.

If Tony didn’t spend at least an hour in the gym and at least seven hours outside of the workshop every day, Obie was alerted. It was the bane of Tony’s existence – the whole stuck-in-a-tower business aside – but hey, at least he could still bring his work upstairs.

“Hey J, are you finished running the simulations?”

And now that he had JARVIS, bringing his work upstairs was going to be even more productive.

“ _Of course, Sir. In future, would you prefer that I alert you once I am finished with a task?_ ”

“Let’s say no for now, unless I ask specifically.”

This window nook was Tony’s favourite place outside the workshop, because it allowed him to sit with his side pressed against the window, and watch the outside world.

The tower had been built not long after Tony’s diagnosis, and these three floors had been all Tony had known since before he could remember. Aside from when they were closed off for renovation, he had free access to his own space, but zero access to any other space. And while the tower had been built upwards and upwards, Tony’s floors had of course remained where they were. His floors were high enough that he could see the sky between the Manhattan buildings, and low enough that he could see the people walking on the pavement outside.

And from this window nook, Tony was close enough to the apartment building next to Stark Tower that he could see inside some of the windows. There was an apartment just above Tony’s head that housed an elderly couple and their cat, and the cat regularly sat in the window and stared at the outside world just like Tony did. Tony had long wondered if indoor cats felt the same way that he did – cared for, and trapped.

The cat wasn’t there today. Tony looked back down to his work.

Eventually, something outside caught Tony’s eye, and he looked into the apartment directly across from Tony’s window. It had apparently been rented. That apartment had previously belonged to a woman who played the cello, but Tony had watched her move out just a few days ago.

Well, it seemed there was a new occupant. Tony tilted his head and watched as a very built, very attractive blond man dried his hair with one small towel, another equally small towel wrapped around his waist.

“Well, damn,” Tony breathed, watching the man walk across the apartment. “Hello, soldier.”

As Tony ogled the stranger, he suddenly glanced up and caught Tony’s eye. Startled, Tony raised a hand in a dumb, awkward greeting.

The stranger hesitated, and then quirked a half grin and returned Tony’s wave.

Tony assumed he’d have curtains up soon.

* * *

 

“Take another look at the McPherson deal,” Obie suggested, pushing some unsigned papers in front of Tony’s bowl of cereal. “It’s a lot of money to turn down, Tony.”

“I know,” Tony replied, not looking back at the paper. “I read it through. I’m still not making weapons anymore.”

Tony forced himself to keep his eyes on Obie’s face, even when his smile curdled. Tony knew that he was causing Obie problems, and while a part of him that was still a boy just wanted Obie to be proud of him, the part of him that was a man – the part of him that had sat on the phone with the reporter for three hours looking at pictures of his weapons, _his weapons_ in the hands of terrorists – refused to give in.

“You’re not making my life easy, kid,” Obie said eventually, pouring coffee for himself into a cardboard cup. That meant he was heading to work early today.

Tony was a masochist, so he quirked a smile, and asked: “When have I ever made your life easy?”

Obie turned to look at him fully, then, a frown set on his face. “Don’t do that,” he ordered. “You know that you’re not a burden to me. You’re family. You don’t want to make weapons anymore, I won’t pretend I understand it, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re family.”

“Oh, don’t go getting mushy on me, old man,” Tony insisted.

Obie turned to leave, and said: “You’re not exactly a young man anymore yourself, kid. You’ve got to be what, thirty?”

“I’m twenty-four, asshole!” Tony shouted as Obie exited the room, laughing.

* * *

 

Pepper left again with a frown marring her lovely face, and Tony sat in his window nook to work until Obie’s return after his late meetings.

After a good hour of barely moving, he said, “Save that, J,” and glanced out at the night sky, the pavement, the other windows.

When his eyes fell on the window across from his – the cellist’s old apartment – he was surprised to see the new tenant looking back at him.

The incredibly buff blonde was sitting in front of his own window with a sketchpad resting on his legs, and a pencil poised above it. This close to the window, Tony could see him more clearly than before. Last week, Tony had been impressed by the muscles, but now that he could see the face better – well. Someone was unfairly gifted in the looks department. Especially that jawline, wow.

After a moment, the stranger looked up and straight into Tony’s eyes. Tony blinked and looked away, but when he looked back, the stranger was still staring at him.

Tony tried to give his best ‘ _what?!_ ’ expression.

The stranger winced, looking somewhat apologetic. After a moment, he turned the sketchpad around and pressed it against the window.

Tony leaned in. It looked light it might be…

It was Tony. It was a half-sketched picture of Tony, sitting in his window nook.

Tony held up a hand to get the stranger to wait, and then turned his tablet around. Once the sketch was in view of the camera he zoomed in and in, and then focused and took a picture.

Tony looked down at his tablet’s screen, with the sketch now blown up so that he could see it properly.

“Damn,” Tony muttered to himself. It was actually pretty good. Tony wasn’t totally sketched out, but he could see the glow shining up from the tablet and lighting up his face. And the details – Tony would have been able to recognise his own face even if he hadn’t recognised the pose with the tablet, and Tony wasn’t even sure how the stranger could see his face in such detail from that distance.

He looked up to the window to find that the stranger now looked a little sheepish.

Tony brought up a blank document on his tablet, wrote out ‘IT’S REALLY GOOD’, and then zoomed in so that the words took up the entire screen. He turned his tablet around and pressed it against the window with a soft _clink_.

Tony watched as the stranger read the message, and then the stranger looked back down to his sketchpad and turned to a new page. After a moment, he pressed the sketchpad against his own window, with his own message:

THANK YOU

He then took it back, turned a page, and wrote again.

YOU’RE A GOOD SUBJECT

Tony wasn’t sure how to react to that, so he just laughed and went back to work. It wasn’t often that he got to interact with strangers in a non-anonymous-on-the-internet kind of way, so at least tonight had been refreshing.

When Tony glanced back at the stranger’s window to see if he was still being sketched, the stranger lifted a hand as if to signal ‘wait’. Tony kept watching as he wrote a new message and pressed it against his window.

ARE YOU OK?

Tony blinked. Well, that was the question, wasn’t it?

The truth was, Tony had never really been ‘okay’. Tony had been born with SCID, a rare genetic disorder which essentially meant that he had a barely-functioning immune system. Obie or Pepper walking in the wrong germs even after decontamination could put him in his bed for a week. And he would never, ever be able to go outside.

Sometimes he ached so much to leave the tower that he almost did it, consequences be damned.

He dreamed of flying away.

Tony could feel that his smile was brittle, but he hoped that the stranger couldn’t see it for the distance.

He wrote, ‘SURE, JUST DANDY’ on his tablet for the stranger to see.

More writing.

ARE YOU SURE?

After a moment’s hesitation, Tony decided to make his next message his cell phone number. He didn’t want the poor guy to use every page in his sketchpad, after all. The guy wrote for several moments, after that, but the only message he pressed against the window for Tony was:

NO PHONE, SORRY

Well, that answered that. Tony knew a ‘not interested’ when he saw it. He nodded to the stranger and then went back to work, and refused to look up again. If the guy wanted to draw him, he could go right ahead. It wasn’t like Tony was in the market for friends, anyway.

* * *

 

Later that night, after Obie had gone to bed, Tony couldn’t sleep.

He made his way down to the workshop, and after ensuring that he would have forewarning if Obie woke up, he opened the doors to his secret project.

The shiny red-and-gold mask glowed down at him, and Tony breathed a quick ‘hello, beautiful’ before getting to work on one of the gauntlets.


	2. I Shouldn't Ask For More

_I've got my mother's love_   
_I shouldn't ask for more_  
 _I've got so many things I should be thankful for_

_Yes, I have everything – except, I guess, a door._

 

In Tony’s defence, anonymous texts on his phone were almost always from R&D, since he refused to save any of their numbers on principle. So when he received a short text saying ‘ _Hi, it’s Steve_ ’, Tony assumed that Steve was one of the idiots who was refusing to recreate his experiment just because it was ‘dangerous’ and ‘likely to explode’ and he had ‘only successfully made it work in a kitchen sink, which had too many variables’.

Therefore, Tony wrote back accordingly:

_I DON’T CARE WHAT YOUR NAME IS, IT WON’T EXPLODE_

And then, because he was sick of this particular problem, he went back and added:

_Just trust me and do it, Steve, there’s a raise in it for you whether or not it explodes_

To which he received the reply: _This is Steve from next door. You gave me your number a few days ago?_

“R&D giving you a hard time?” Pepper asked as she deposited a cup of coffee on his desk. It was only then that Tony realised that he had half a sandwich in his mouth. Honestly, Pepper was the real genius – she somehow managed to ensure that Tony ate regular meals, often without even consulting Tony’s waking brain.

Tony swallowed his mouthful and added, “Everyone is an idiot but me,” which wasn’t technically a lie.

_I thought you didn’t have a phone?_ he texted back.

_I was told that it was time to join the 21 st Century_, Steve replied almost immediately.

While Tony was sure that Steve was a great big liar, at least he was being consistent in his lie. Tony could appreciate that.

_Sorry for the all-caps. My R &D dept is refusing to do an experiment because they’re babies who are afraid it’s going to blow up and kill them all_

_Could it do that?_ Steve asked.

_It WON’T do that, because I’m not an amateur, Steve,_ Tony replied.

That was the point at which Tony forgot about his phone, because a Skype call was coming through on one of his large screens. A Skype call with picture.

“Pepper,” Tony called to his PA, who was almost at the door. “Am I wearing pants?”

Pepper sighed. “Yes, Mr Stark,” she replied, in the tone of voice which meant that she was regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. “You are wearing pants.”

* * *

 

Many hours later, Tony settled back into his window nook with his tablet, ready to curl up with some more work for the evening. He had officially been locked out of his workshop for the day, thanks to the tyranny of Pepper Potts, and she had somehow managed to convince JARVIS to help her regulate Tony’s schedule.

Obie was sitting at the dining table with a stack of papers, and Tony watched him for a few long moments before looking out the window.

Sometimes, Obie would catch Tony staring out the window and would get into a weird mood, almost like he was angry that Tony wasn’t satisfied with his three levels in his tower. Tony knew that it was because Obie cared about him and didn’t know how to help, but god, sometimes he wished that he could stare forlornly in peace.

The stars were visible tonight, even in bright Manhattan. There were people on the street, all of them rushing and none of them so much as glancing upwards.

Steve was sitting at his window.

Tony almost jumped when he realised that he was being watched, and then Steve held his phone up with a pointed expression. Tony glanced back to Obie, who was muttering to himself as he read the fine-print on something, and then decided that he was unlikely to notice that Tony wasn’t working.

_You never told me your name._

The text had been received hours ago, and Tony had apparently even opened it, but Tony’s day had been filled with faces from R&D and he had, at one point, actually caused an explosion in his workshop. He must have been on autopilot when he saw the message. Tony tapped his phone for a moment, and then wrote his reply.

_It’s plastered on the side of the building. I sort of thought you already knew._

_Your name is ‘STARK TOWER’?_ When Tony glanced up, Steve was grinning at him.

Tony shook his head.

_Tony Stark – it’s my tower._

_You own a tower?_ Steve asked.

Tony did technically own a tower, but everyone knew that everything Tony owned was really Obie’s. Tony wasn’t sure why his father had left the company and tower to Tony – he had known that Tony could only inherit in name, since he couldn’t leave the tower – but when Howard had died, that’s what Tony and Obie had found in his will. Stark Industries had been left for Obie to look after until Tony was of age, but when the time had come, they had agreed to just keep the status quo. It hadn’t made any practical difference, after all; Tony worked with R&D and signed a lot of papers, and Obie was CEO in everything but name.

So yes, Tony owned the tower in which he was trapped.

_If Rapunzel owned her tower, then I own this one_ , Tony replied.

Steve was smiling, but he also looked a little concerned.

_Are you a prince stuck in a tower?_ he asked.

Tony hesitated, realising that Steve actually didn’t know who he was. That was novel. Usually he could only achieve anonymity via the internet. Even when he had been taking classes at MIT via the wonder of the web, everyone had known who he was.

_I’m sick_ , he replied. _I can’t leave the tower. You should probably just google me._

“Hey kid, can we talk about this?” Obie asked, lifting up one of the forms that Tony had failed to sign. Tony pressed his lips together, and then nodded.

_Gtg_ , he shot off to Steve, and then stood and approached Obie.

“Is it the McPherson deal?” he asked as he sat across from Obie at the table.

Obie paused for a long moment, staring at Tony across the table. Finally, he sighed. “Look, it isn’t a military deal,” he said in a careful voice. “I get that you don’t want to sell to the military anymore. I get it. I saw the pictures, too. But what McPherson are asking for is a commercial deal.”

“It’s a commercial deal which will inevitably end up in military hands,” Tony countered. “It’s a goddamn missile, what else are they going to do with it?”

Obie squinted. “It’s not our responsibility once McPherson has it.”

“I don’t want to make weapons anymore, Obie,” Tony replied. “I don’t mind if you want R&D to keep making weapons. I get that that’s how SI makes money – I’m not naïve. But I don’t want to be the one making them anymore, that’s all.”

“And I—” Obie started, a little louder than before, and then stopped while he visibly calmed himself down. “And I’m not asking you to make weapons. But you were just a few steps away from making the Jericho Missiles work, really work, and nobody else can make that last step.”

“We have a team for that work.”

“You stopped working on the Jericho four years ago, and they haven’t been able to make it work. Whatever you were seeing, nobody else can see it.” Obie tried for a smile, and Tony saw clearly that it was one of his I’m-proud-of-you-kid smiles, but it couldn’t matter. Tony wasn’t doing this. “Nobody else can do it, because you’re the genius behind Stark Industries. You can play with your inventions, and you can collect all the doctorates you want, but in the end, that’s who you are.”

Tony took in a deep breath. “I hate disappointing you, Obie.”

“You don’t have to disappoint me,” Obie pointed out. “You don’t even have to sign and agree to it. Bare minimum, all you have to do is explain to someone who’ll understand how to get the Jericho to do her thing.”

Four years ago, Tony had made a promise to himself that he was never making weapons again. He had been at the forefront of weapons design after his father’s death, and he was good at it – he was even better than Howard had been at the end there, when the alcohol had started doing things to his mind. The press had even started calling Tony ‘the Merchant of Death’ and ‘the Beast of Stark Tower’.

And Tony had been fine with that, because he had a way to exercise his mind, and keep Obie happy, and continue his father’s legacy. But then he’d been brought crashing to reality when Yinsen had handed over his phone and asked Tony to talk to a reporter.

Yinsen had lost his job of three years by connecting Tony to that reporter. And Tony had stopped making weapons.

Nowadays, he tried not to think about being ‘the Beast of Stark Tower’.

“I’m sorry,” Tony told Obie, and he really was.

Obie gave him a long look, and then nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I thought it was worth one last try.”

Sometimes Tony wished that Obie would yell at him, but the truth was, he hadn’t once. Not in all these years that Tony had dug his heels in and refused to comply. Not when Tony had been impossible to deal with after his father and Jarvis had died. Not even when Tony was a kid. Obie had never yelled at him, not that he could remember.

Sometimes Tony wished that Obie would yell, because that might have been easier to deal with than the disappointment.

* * *

 

Much later that night, Tony lay awake in bed and texted with Steve. Steve had refused to google him, because he seemed to think that was an inappropriate way to interact with someone, and Tony found it a little refreshing.

_Usually when I start talking with someone, they just want to know about why I’m sick_ , he admitted.

_I used to be sick, too_ , Steve replied, _pretty much all the time._

_I would not guess that from looking at you._

_I got better,_ Steve admitted. _But I remember not wanting to list my ailments. Anyway, there are more interesting things to ask._

_For example…?_

_What’s your favorite color?_

Tony didn’t get nearly enough sleep that night, thanks to the texting. However, he learned that Steve was hopeless with technology (Tony had to talk him through how to work his phone on several occasions), that he grew up in Brooklyn, that he was a veteran, and that he’d moved back to New York four months ago after a long stint away from home. And, most importantly, that he sometimes volunteered at a local animal shelter.

_Okay, no, that’s too cute_ , Tony objected. _You couldn’t possibly be more all-american. Let me guess, your favorite type of pie is apple?_

_There’s nothing wrong with apple pie!_

_Is that a yes?_

And in return, Steve asked about Tony’s taste in music (and then complained when Tony sent him songs to listen to), Tony’s doctorates (he was working on his third), Tony’s family.

_It’s just me and Obie now_ , he explained. _My dad died a few years ago, along with my carer at the time. My mom died in childbirth._

_I’m sorry_ , Steve replied. _It’s just me on my end, too. My father was never around, and my Ma died a long while back._

And while Tony had been going back-and-forth for the last hour on whether or not Steve was an undercover reporter, Tony now thought that he understood why Steve was reaching out to him. Steve was alone, too.

* * *

 

A while back, Tony had been working on a prototype for a gym-buddy. It was a vaguely person-shaped robot who attacked and defended in various fighting styles, for training alone. In the end, SI had decided not to follow through with it – they had decided that there wasn’t much of a market for it, since most non-Tony individuals had other people to train with – but Tony had made one version for his private gym.

He called the robot Gunther, and Gunther had just punched him in the face.

In his defence, Pepper was talking while he was fighting, and then the _doorbell had rung_.

“Ow,” Tony said, from where he had been planted on his ass. “Gunther, stop.”

“Are you okay?” Pepper asked, raising an eyebrow down at him.

Tony rubbed his jaw. “I’m fine. Was that the _doorbell_?” Tony had forgotten that they even had a doorbell.

Pepper looked as dubious as him about that possibility. “I’ll go check if someone’s outside de-con?”

“Wait,” Tony suggested. “JARVIS, is there someone outside the decontamination areas waiting for Pepper?”

“ _There is indeed an individual waiting_ ,” JARVIS replied. “ _He is not an employee of Stark Industries. Would you like me to search the government databases?_ ”

Pepper shot Tony a glare.

“Hey, he didn’t say he was going to do it – he was just asking permission!” he insisted. “No, J, no need to break any laws.”

“I’ll go figure this out,” Pepper suggested, but she didn’t look happy about it. Leaving de-con for something small was never fun, since she would have to be decontaminated again before she re-entered, and from what Tony understood, it wasn’t the easiest process.

When Pepper left, Tony stood and stretched.

“Hey J, can you get into the camera outside de-con and show me who’s waiting?” he asked.

“ _I would be happy to, Sir,_ ” JARVIS replied.

And then – well. That appeared to be Steve.

Steve, holding a white box, and shifting from one foot to another. He had a confused frown on his very, very handsome face. This was the first time that Tony had seem him this close, and—well, damn. He was possibly even _more_ attractive up-close, which was not at all fair.

“Hello,” Pepper said, apparently from the other side of the final de-con barrier.

“J, can you get me a visual on Pep, too?” Tony suggested.

Now, through two cameras, he could see Pepper on one side of the glass and Steve on the other.

“Hi,” Steve greeted with a smile. “I was looking for Tony?”

“Uh huh,” Pepper replied, incredulous. “And why were you looking for Mr Stark?”

Steve looked a little taken aback, but he recovered pretty quickly. “Oh, uh, he said something about being unwell, so I thought I’d bring him…” He lifted the white box slightly. “It’s apple pie,” he explained, and Tony started laughing.

Steve had brought him apple pie. That was too much.

Apparently Pepper thought so too, because her mouth started twitching in that way that meant she wanted to laugh, but knew that she couldn’t.

“Um, Mr…?”

“Rogers,” Steve supplied. “Steve Rogers.”

“Mr Rogers,” Pepper said. “That’s very sweet of you, but nothing comes into Tony’s space that isn’t thoroughly vetted and decontaminated, so I’m afraid we can’t accept the pie.”

Steve hesitated, and then nodded. “Oh. Okay. I didn’t realise it was so… Is Tony there?”

Pepper smiled politely, apparently feeling a little sorry for Steve.

“He isn’t allowed into this area. This is the decontamination area.”

“He isn’t allowed?” Steve asked, frowning now.

Pepper pursed her lips for a brief moment. “I’m getting the impression that you don’t understand how sick Mr Stark is,” she explained. “All the information is readily accessible on the internet.”

“Oh, I…” Steve used his spare hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah, Tony said I could look it up, but it just felt a little rude to me.”

“Tony… ‘said’?” Pepper asked.

“We’ve been texting,” Steve replied. “I just moved into the block of apartments next door, and we can see each other through our windows. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that Tony wasn’t able to… take things, or come to the door. What does—” he seemed to think better of the question, and stopped there. “Never mind, I should just ask him directly.”

Pepper’s expression was somewhere between bewildered and amused. “No, it’s public information,” she said. “Tony has SCID. It’s a rare genetic disorder which essentially means that he has no working immune system. So he could get very sick if the wrong things got in here.”

Steve looked mortified. “Gee, so I could have really hurt him?”

Pepper smiled. “We never would have let that happen,” she ensured him. “Is that a note that you have with the pie? The paper could come through decontamination if you’d still like to give it to him.”

“Oh,” Steve said, looking down at the paper. He went a little red in the cheeks, which might have just been the best thing Tony had ever seen. “Uh, it’s actually a drawing. Oh, geez, he probably doesn’t want it, it’s not worth the—”

Steve’s phone started ringing in his pocket.

Because Tony was calling him.

Tony watched Steve glance at his phone, and then lift it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Steve, I absolutely want the drawing,” Tony insisted.

Steve looked up, startled.

“Where are you?”

“I hacked into the cameras,” Tony admitted. “Well. Actually, I built an AI which hacked into the cameras. Not important, Steve! I want my picture!”

Steve turned back to Pepper. “Uh, Tony says that he wants the picture.”

“Put it in there,” Pepper instructed, pointing to the small cubby. When Steve had put it through one side and closed the hatch, Pepper opened up the other side and looked at it. “Wow.”

“Don’t say wow, take me my picture!” Tony insisted, and then realised that Pepper couldn’t hear him. “Steve, tell Pepper to hurry up.”

“I’m not going to tell her to hurry up, Tony,” Steve insisted, which caused Pepper to laugh.

Tony watched as Pepper began to back away from the barrier. “I’m just going to take this to my boss,” she said. “It was certainly interesting to meet you, Steve.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Steve replied. Then, to Tony: “I’m sorry I tried to kill you with apple pie.”

“It’ll be my favourite assassination attempt to date,” Tony replied. “I appreciate the thought, even if I can’t appreciate the pie. Enjoy it for me?”

Tony could see Steve smiling through the camera as he began to walk away. “I should get going to work,” he said. “I hope you like the drawing. I’ll speak to you later?”

It was only after saying goodbye that Tony realised that Steve wanted to continue their conversations, even though he now knew that Tony lived in a bubble.

* * *

 

The drawing was amazing now that it was finished. Tony tacked it to the board in his bedroom, and tried to chase the pleased smile from his face.

“So,” Pepper said a little later, when Tony was back in his workshop. “Steve Rogers.”

“Steve Rogers,” Tony agreed, only devoting 5% of his attention to the conversation.

“Steve Rogers is incredibly cute, and apparently wants to bring you apple pie and drawings he made of you,” Pepper said. Tony hummed in agreement. “How did you exchange numbers, exactly?”

“Held up paper in front of the window,” Tony answered. “Well, he had paper. I had my tablet. Seemed inefficient, so I wrote my number.”

Pepper actually squeaked at that, which brought 10% more of Tony’s attention to the conversation. He glanced at her, only to see an expression he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on Pepper before. It was like a frown, except it was part happy and part very, very confused.

“I’m sorry, but Tony,” she said. “Doesn’t that seem a little… romantic?”

Tony blinked. “I guess if it were happening to someone else,” he admitted.

A few muscles shifted in Pepper’s forehead, and now the happy-confused frown had a small element of concern. “Because you’re not interested in men, or because you’re…?”

Tony turned back to his work. “Because I’m stuck in the tower,” he answered. “I don’t, uh.” He glanced back at Pepper, then back to his work. “I don’t think I have much of a preference, on the men v. women front.”

There was a long enough pause that Tony assumed that Pepper had left, but then her heels clicked as she came to stand beside him. She nudged him gently with her arm.

“Can we talk about how incredibly hot he is?” Pepper suggested, and Tony laughed.

* * *

 

Some days passed, along with many texts and a few calls to Steve.

Obie stopped asking about the McPherson deal, but the tension was still palpable between the two of them. And since Obie was about to leave for a week for some meetings in Japan, Tony knew that they were both thinking about clearing the air.

Obie was the one who made the mature move.

“Listen, Tony, I wanted to apologise for everything about the McPherson deal,” he said as he was getting ready to leave one morning. “I shouldn’t have pushed you that hard.”

“I know that you’re frustrated,” Tony replied. “And I’m sorry, too.”

Obie nodded, and then fixed a serious look on his face. “I also think that we should have a conversation soon about the direction that Stark Industries is taking.” At Tony’s raised eyebrows, he added: “What I mean is that… Tony, do you _want_ to continue being CEO?”

All Tony could manage was, “Oh.”

They hadn’t really talked much about the CEO issue. Ever since Tony had come of age, the only difference had been that Tony signed more papers. Obie was still CEO in everything but name.

“It just seems to me,” Obie continued, voice steady and calm, “that I’ve been acting as CEO for so long as we’ve forgotten to question whether or not this makes sense.”

Tony looked for a reason to change the status quo, and didn’t come up with much. “Did you want to change the name of the company?” he asked.

“No,” Obie replied firmly. “I don’t want to change anything, kid. I just want to take some of the not-fun work off your plate, let you work on what you want to work on without all the papers cluttering your desk.”

Tony nodded. “Uh huh.”

“And if we’re transitioning away from military weaponry, then the investors need as much stability as we can give them. I’m the face they’re used to.”

“Right,” Tony replied. “Of course. That makes sense.”

“We’ll talk about it when I get back from Japan,” Obie suggested. “And if you decide that you want to continue to be the CEO on paper, that’s fine. We’ll figure out how to deal with the investors.”

Obie enveloped him in a bear hug, and mussed up his hair a little before letting go.

Tony’s smile felt like it sat uncomfortably on his face.

* * *

 

Three days after Obie left, Tony admitted to Steve that he missed his godfather.

_I don’t see many people in person_ , he wrote, glad that this conversation was happening via text. It would be harder to admit it out loud, he thought, but something about Steve made him want to share. _I have Obie and Pepper and Rhodey. And Rhodey is away – he’s in the army. So now it’s just Pepper._

_It’s a good thing that you like Pepper so much_ , Steve replied, ever the optimist. _But I’m sorry you’re feeling lonely. Is there anything I can do to help?_

Tony thought about suggesting a video call later, but it just felt too needy. They usually ended up speaking on the phone at night when Steve wasn’t working – doing something classified, so presumably something for the government – but that always came about organically. Asking Steve to schedule in a video call with him felt both too much like a work call and too intimate.

_Nah_ , he replied instead. _I’m just being childish. How’s work going today? Assassinate anyone interesting?_

_Not an assassin_ , Steve replied, shooting down his latest guess. _You know that even if you guess right, I can’t tell you what I do._

_So you could be an assassin, then_ , Tony countered.

* * *

 

Later that night, when Tony was being kicked out of his workshop by Pepper, Steve called.

“Hi, Steve,” Tony answered, finally following Pepper out of the room. “How was work?”

“Come to our window,” Steve replied, sounding amused and a little out of breath.

Tony sent a confused frown to Pepper, and then started up the stairs to the main room.

Steve was standing in the window.

“Holy shit,” Tony breathed. “How did you get up there?”

“Language,” Steve complained, and then winced, as if just realising how much like a grandpa he sounded. Tony laughed and rushed to the window to look up at Steve. And then he decided _to hell with it_ and climbed onto his window nook, so that they were standing face-to-face.

“Hi,” Tony said, grinning like a maniac.

“Hi,” Steve replied, grinning right back.

Pepper cleared her throat. “I’ll just leave you two alone,” she said, with barely-concealed laughter in her voice.

“Seriously,” Tony said into his phone, standing face-to-face with Steve Rogers. “How did you get up there?”

“I called in a favour with a friend,” Steve admitted. His blond hair was shifting in the wind.

“Is your friend _Superman_?” Tony asked, incredulous.

Steve’s beautiful face creased in confusion. “Who’s Superman?” he asked.

“Who’s…? Steve, were you raised by the Amish?” Steve shrugged instead of answering, so Tony pressed on: “He was a comic book character who could fly. Kind of like Captain America, except not based on a real guy.”

“Captain America couldn’t fly,” Steve pointed out.

Tony wanted to roll his eyes, but he also didn’t want to look away from Steve’s face, up-close and personal. “Actually, I had a few Cap comics where he did fly,” he said, “but that’s hardly important.”

“I guess not,” Steve replied, and then lifted the hand which wasn’t holding his cell phone.

Steve pressed his palm against the glass between them, and Tony swallowed before lifting his own hand. He pressed his hand against where Steve’s was, just on the other side of the glass.

If the glass hadn’t been there…

But the glass was there.

“Steve,” Tony started, intending to be an adult and start a Serious Conversation about why this was a bad idea.

“Shh,” Steve stopped him, as if he knew where Tony was going. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Steve had ‘called in a favour’ to stand on Tony’s window ledge, several floors from the Manhattan pavement, so maybe Steve wasn’t against bad ideas.

Tony smiled.

“When I was four, I made my first circuit board,” he started.

 


	3. To Keep You Safe and Sound

_Look at you, as fragile as a flower_  
_Still a little sapling, just a sprout_  
_You know why we stay up in this tower:_

_That's right, to keep you_  
_safe_  
_and_  
_sound, dear…_

In the right light, Tony could see the smudge of Steve’s handprint on the other side of the glass.

* * *

 

Just a few days later, probably thanks to the ever-powerful hand of Pepper Potts, Tony was able to speak to Rhodey on a video call. Tony hadn’t been able to speak to him in weeks, which probably didn’t make much difference to Rhodey, but it did to Tony.

Rhodey was Tony’s only actual friend. Or at least he had been, before Steve. Everyone else that Tony had ever interacted with in a meaningful manner had been family or paid help – and much as Tony adored Pepper and wanted to buy her all the shoes in the world to make her happy, he also recognised that there was a difference between a friend and an employee.

Rhodey, on the other hand, had become Tony’s friend organically. He had volunteered to email Tony some information on a class in his first year of college, and had apparently taken pity on the fact that Tony couldn’t participate in college life; he’d then spent a few days documenting everywhere he went and everyone he interacted with, and sent snarky messages to Tony about it all. Months later, he had been the first person that Howard and Obie had let into the tower as a visitor.

Rhodey had other friends, and a life outside the tower, but Tony only really had Rhodey.

“I don’t know, Tones,” Rhodey said, several minutes into their call. “I don’t think you should hand over the company. It’s yours. Your dad must have left it to you for a reason.”

Tony leaned back against DUM-E, whom he’d dragged into picture so that Rhodey could see him. Rhodey and DUM-E had as deep a friendship as a person could have with a messed-up robotic arm.

DUM-E whirred inquisitively at Tony, who shushed him.

“Yeah, but Dad was hardly sober at all in the last, what, six months of his life? He probably convinced himself I could really run SI from my bubble.”

“You _do_ run SI from your bubble,” Rhodey pointed out. “Just because Obie attends the meetings and shakes the hands doesn’t mean you’re not the CEO.”

Tony shrugged. “Anyway, Obie said we’ll talk about it when he gets back from Japan, so I’ll handle it then. I don’t know.”

Something shifted in Rhodey’s face on the screen, a half-grin quirking at his mouth. “Anyway, Ms Potts tells me that there’s something else new and exciting in your life.”

“Nope,” Tony replied, “nothing, nada, just boring old tower this explosion that.”

Rhodey laughed. “Sure, if you’re not ready to talk about Apple Pie Steve, then I’ll wait until you’re ready,” he said. “I think it’s great, that’s all.”

“It’s nothing, there’s nothing to talk about,” Tony insisted. “I made a new friend; don’t be jealous, sugarplum. You were my first. Nothing can take that away from us.”

“You’re such a little shit,” Rhodey said. “We all know that I only put up with you because of DUM-E. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

DUM-E whirred and turned his claw toward the screen.

“All my tech is turning against me,” Tony lamented. “DUM-E likes you better. JARVIS is taking orders from Pepper now. Next, one of you will be running off with Gunther.” He glared at the screen. “Anyway, when did you two start gossiping about me and my love life? Or lack thereof. Lack of love life.”

Rhodey shook his head. “I’m going to just let that go, out of my deep respect for your need to get your shit together by yourself,” he said. Then his amused expression slipped, and he added: “I really don’t think you should sign Stark Industries over, Tones. You know how I feel about Obie.”

“Yeah, yeah, he gives you the heebie-jeebies,” Tony replied. “Look, he’s only ever had my best interests at heart.”

Rhodey looked unconvinced, but Rhodey had somehow always been unconvinced about Obie. He’d gotten along with Tony’s father, at least as well as anyone really got along with Howard Stark, but he’d always been uncomfortable around Obie. At first, Tony had wondered if Obie had said something to put Rhodey off the idea of visiting, but when he’d eventually asked Rhodey, Rhodey had only said: _‘That guy just gives me a bad feeling.’_

Later, when Tony was finishing up some work alone, he wondered if Rhodey had planted the seed of doubt about signing over SI or if it had been there all along.

* * *

 

“Listen,” Steve said, which sounded like the start of something that Tony didn’t want to hear.

It was almost two am, which meant that they’d been talking for over two hours, now. Somehow, this was the new normal. It had been just over two weeks since Tony and Steve had started texting, but Tony was adapting to having a new presence in his life with frankly worrying speed.

He wasn’t even sure he could put his finger on what they spoke about for all these hours. He had records for the texts, but the phone conversations seemed to be about everything and nothing. Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever told anyone as much about his life and experiences, not even Rhodey, and… well, he hoped he was right and that Steve wasn’t a reporter, because he wasn’t sure that Obie would be a big fan of the story that Steve could write.

“Listen?” Tony repeated, worry beginning to gnaw at him.

Steve sighed. “I have to go away for a few days, at least,” he explained. “I can’t take my phone. It’s for work.”

“What kind of work tells you not to bring your cell phone?” Tony asked. “Ah. Undercover mission. You’re a spy.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “I keep telling you that there’s no point in guessing.”

“When will you be back?” Tony asked, and he knew that he was being stupid and needy as soon as the question was out of his mouth. Since Steve couldn’t see him, Tony sat up in bed in order to see his own reflection in his mirror and mouthed, ‘ _What is wrong with you, Stark?’_

Steve hesitated. “I can’t know,” he said, eventually. “It could be as little as three days, or as many as...”

Tony frowned when Steve trailed off. “Uh, okay. You don’t owe me a time-frame, anyway,” he replied, trying for a light tone of voice and probably failing. “I’ll, you know, be here when you get back.”

“I’ll miss you,” Steve said, plain and simple.

Tony smiled. “No, you won’t. But thanks for saying it.”

“I will,” Steve pressed. Then, with a pause that felt like he was steeling himself for something: “Tony, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I happen to like you a lot.”

Tony’s heart was heavy in his chest. There was a part of him that wanted to say _screw it_ and talk about this thing between him and Steve out loud, explicitly, but a bigger part of him knew that it couldn’t lead anywhere.

And so even though he knew that Steve didn’t just mean as friends – had known that at least since Steve had shown up on his window ledge, if not before – he forced himself to push that away, and to see this through the lens of ‘friends’. It would be easier that way.

“I like you, too, Steve,” he admitted, in a voice that he deliberately kept from being heavy. “You should probably go to sleep, make sure you’re in fighting form tomorrow.”

Steve breathed a sigh. “Yeah, I guess so,” he relented, but he sounded disappointed. “I’ll text you when I’m back from my trip.”

“I hope it goes well,” Tony said.

When they’d hung up the call, Tony swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He needed to do something to take his mind off Steve, and with no Obie in the country, he was a lot less likely to get caught in his workshop in the middle of the night.

Tony opened the doors on his secret project, and smiled.

The workshop was huge, with high ceilings – it took up almost the entire floor. There was plenty of room to see if his calculations were correct regarding flight.

* * *

 

That particular experiment left Tony with a lot of bruises to hide from Pepper the next day.

* * *

 

Everything was a little better when Obie came home. The tower was less lonely, and he had someone to complain to about R&D, and Obie always came home with the most interesting stories about places that Tony had never seen.

(Places that Tony would probably never see. His suit of armour had been ready for months, and he hadn’t seriously considered taking it out of the workshop. Instead, he was adding unnecessary elements like flight, which he knew he would probably never get to use outside.)

“Kid, what’s this?”

Tony looked up from the couch to see Obie returning from a direction that was not the bathroom. And he was holding…

“Uh,” Tony replied, trying to force the panic down. “A drawing?”

“Well I can see that,” Obie replied, staring down at Steve’s picture. “It’s actually pretty good.”

Tony frowned. “Hey, what were you doing in my room?”

Obie glanced up at Tony with a grin. “Snooping,” he admitted, which was honest and ridiculous enough that it made Tony laugh. “So who drew this, exactly? It looks like you’re sitting…” Obie looked pointedly over at Tony’s window nook.

Tony hoped that Obie wasn’t observant enough to notice the smudge of a hand print on the other side of the glass.

“Oh, uh, just a neighbour,” Tony replied. “Some guy who moved in across the way. Artist.”

Obie sat down heavily beside Tony. “Artist,” he said, looking down at the picture. “You know, this artist clearly has a thing for you.”

“He didn’t even know me when he drew that,” Tony said, and then immediately regretted it.

Obie’s eyes were narrowed in that way that said _I know you better than you know yourself, Tony Stark_. “But he knows you now.”

Damn it.

“Yeah,” Tony admitted, going for honesty. “We’ve texted a few times. He’s a cool guy.” Well, going for part of the truth, at least.

“A cool guy,” Obie repeated, staring Tony out. Tony refused to look away. After a few long moments, he said: “You like him.” When Tony didn’t say anything in reply, Obie went on: “Huh. Virginia Potts was a waste of a hire, then.”

“What? No, Pepper’s the best. Wait, are you saying that you hired her because you thought I’d _like_ her?” Tony asked, caught someplace between appalled and amused.

Obie grinned. “I hired her because she’s competent and nice to look at. I thought we were in agreement on that.”

Tony rubbed his forehead. This evening was not going in the direction he had expected.

“Look, I like women, too,” Tony explained. “Not that I want you to hire me assistants based on that.”

There was a long pause, and when Tony braced himself to look up at Obie again, Obie looked contemplative.

“Okay,” Obie started, “a couple of things. First, I don’t care about whether you are attracted to men. I don’t understand it, but I also don’t understand why women are attracted to men, so.” He smiled, just a flash, and then went on: “And second… kid, you’ve got to know that this can’t go anywhere, right?”

It was exactly what Tony had been telling himself, and yet it sounded so much more painful coming from Obie. Tony looked away and swallowed.

“Yeah, I’ve been… I know that. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Obie disagreed. “Of course you’re going to like someone from time to time. But I mean, you’ve just got to remember: he has a life out there, and you don’t.”

Tony stared at the smudge on the glass of the window. “Yeah. I know.”

Obie heaved a sigh. “God, I’m an ass. I’m sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean… I just don’t want you to end up hurt, that’s all. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it could work out. I just worry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tony interrupted, and then forced himself to look back at Obie. “You were right. He has a life out there.”

Obie looked older in that moment, somehow, like there were lines on his face that hadn’t been there before. “I wish you could have more than this, kiddo.”

“I know you do.”

Tony didn’t look back to the smudge on the window.

* * *

 

Two days later, the window cleaners came.

* * *

 

Tony managed to push off the conversation about signing SI over to Obie for another few days. He sensed that Obie was getting impatient, but he claimed that he didn’t want to do anything hasty, and now Tony was waiting for his mind to sort itself out.

Anyway, if he could keep Obie waiting for a few days, then Obie had meetings in LA which would buy Tony another three.

He wondered why it wasn’t easier than this to make the decision.

When Tony saw Steve again, he was just preparing to sit in his window nook and work through the evening. But when he did his cursory glance over to Steve’s window, instead of seeing darkness as he had for the last several days, he saw Steve.

Steve wasn’t alone.

Tony glanced down to his phone to see if he’d missed a text, but Steve hadn’t messaged him – which then made Tony feel stupid for checking. Of course Steve had a life outside of Tony; Tony was hardly going to be his first thought upon getting back from his trip.

Through Steve’s window, Tony could see the back of Steve’s head and the curve of his unfairly gorgeous jaw. And across from him, sitting perched on his small dining table, was an unfairly gorgeous woman. She was dressed in black, and her hair was deep red and falling to just above her shoulders. And she was looking at Tony.

Tony looked away, and then back again. The woman was apparently still talking to Steve, but her eyes were looking over Steve’s shoulder at Tony. Tony raised a hand in an awkward greeting, and then the woman looked back to Steve.

Steve made to turn around, and Tony decided that he didn’t want to sit in his window nook tonight after all.

Steve had a life out there. Steve did something classified for work, something which was probably related to how incredibly in-shape he was. Steve walked dogs at the local shelter, and rode a motorcycle, and had a beautiful redheaded friend spending time in his apartment. Tony had been an idiot to contemplate the idea of the two of them. It made no sense whatsoever.

In that moment, Tony was more thankful for Obie than he ever had been before. How long might he have spent thinking ‘maybe’ if it hadn’t been for Obie?

Later, when he was in bed, Steve called. Tony rejected the call, and turned to text instead:

_Hey, can’t chat on the phone right now. How was work?_

_It was fine. I’m glad to be back, though. Anything interesting happen in my absence?_

This would usually have been the part of the conversation where Tony would mention talking to Rhodey, or how he and Pepper had attempted baking a cake and ended up eating the batter and watching a movie, or how Gunther had clocked him in the face because he was too busy inventing in his head to pay attention to his workout. Or maybe he would have told Steve that he was rethinking signing SI over to Obie, or that Obie had found Steve’s drawing and Tony had come out about being bisexual. Or he could have brought back an old conversation by asking about a story Steve had told him about Peggy, his ex-almost-girlfriend, or asked him to reconsider the undeniable fact that ‘Iron Man’ by Black Sabbath was the best song ever written.

Instead, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about the day that he would see a woman or a man in Steve’s apartment, and they wouldn’t just be talking. They would put their hand on Steve’s shoulder, because they were there and they could, and Steve would smile at them the way that he smiled at Tony.

One day, Steve was going to find someone who wasn’t sick. And that was probably for the better.

So instead of writing any of those things that he might have before, Tony just wrote:

_Nothing interesting. You know how my life is. Anyway, I’m off to bed._

* * *

 

Call Tony selfish, but he kind of hated that he was weaning off talking to Steve at the same time as dealing with Obie and the great CEO debacle. He wanted to tell Steve every thought and doubt and hope, and Tony had never had the urge to share like this before Steve. He’d never had to quash the urge to share before Steve.

“So what’s the plan?” Obie asked, the morning before he left for LA. “Is there a plan that I can tell the board?”

Tony looked up at Obie. Obie was fixing his cufflinks, looking every part the businessman that he was, and Tony was eating cereal in his pyjamas. Would probably opt to stay in his pyjamas all day if it weren’t for the fact that Pepper would be arriving in a number of minutes, and would inevitably force him into real clothes before allowing him to go to the workshop.

It was obvious who the CEO was in this situation, and it wasn’t Tony. It had never been Tony.

Obie knew best.

“Yeah, there’s a plan,” Tony replied. “You can tell the board we’re transitioning leadership. I’ll sign everything after you’re back from LA.”

Obie looked relieved. “Thank you, Tony. I really do think this is the best thing for the company.”

“As long as I’m still with R&D,” Tony added. “That’s all I really want to do, anyway. And you can change the name of the company, if you want. It’s been your company since Dad died, after all.”

Obie didn’t look so relieved anymore. “What? No, SI is always going to be Stark Industries. Like I said, you’re the genius behind it. I think that matters a little more than whoever’s technically the CEO.”

Somehow, Obie always knew what to say to make Tony feel better. “Thanks. And you’re right, this is the best thing.”

“I’ll miss you, kiddo,” Obie said, reaching over to ruffle his hair the same way he had when Tony was five. “Hey, when I’m back, we should make plans for your birthday. Twenty-five. Practically ancient.”

“Screw you!” Tony shouted at Obie’s retreating back. And then: “I’ll miss you, too!”

* * *

 

Later that night, Steve called. Tony was about to ignore it, but then he realised that Steve could see him looking at his phone through the window.

“Damn it,” Tony muttered, realising that if he ignored it now, it was very obvious that it wasn’t because he was lost in work. “Don’t be a coward, Stark,” he told himself, and answered the call. “Hey, Steve.”

“Hi, Tony,” Steve replied. “I’m sorry to bother you while you’re working. I was just wondering if we could talk for a minute.”

Steve’s words sounded a little stilted, like he’d practiced them before calling. The idea made something affectionate well up in Tony, which he tried to stamp down.

“Sure,” Tony replied, trying to keep his tone friendly. “What’s up?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Tony tried very hard not to look through the window to where Steve was clearly watching him. Instead, he sat up in the window nook so that he was facing away from the window. He placed his tablet on the table beside him.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony replied.

“It’s just that things have… You haven’t been the same since I got back,” Steve said, a little less stilted but a whole lot more hurt.

Tony winced. “Okay. No, you’re right.”

“Is it something that I did?”

“It isn’t anything that you did,” Tony replied, trying to figure out the best way to put this issue to rest. “It’s just that… I think that we should agree to just be friends.” There was a pause from Steve’s end. “Not that we were more than friends. Maybe I was misreading things. But just in case I wasn’t, in case I wasn’t misreading things: I think we should agree to just be friends.”

Oh, god, he was babbling. Tony made himself stop talking, and waited for a response.

“Tony,” Steve said, voice soft and careful. “Could you look at me while we talk?”

Tony really, really didn’t want to. But he turned around anyway, and met Steve’s eyes through the windows and the distance.

Goddammit. Steve was sitting backwards on one of his folding chairs, one arm on the back of the chair and the other holding the phone to his ear. And he was wearing _suspenders_. Life was not fair to Tony Stark.

“Hi,” Tony said, now that he could see Steve in all his inexplicable loveliness.

“Hi,” Steve replied. “So this was the part where you were telling me you’re not interested.” He smiled then, and it was more self-deprecating than happy. “I guess I missed the cues where you told me you were busy washing your hair.”

Tony hated everything about this.

“That isn’t what I was telling you,” Tony said, determined to be honest. Steve deserved honesty. “What I was telling you is that I’m very much interested, but… Well.” He gestured to everything around him. “You know.”

Steve’s gaze was unwavering. “No, I’m not sure that I do know. Spell it out for me.”

“It couldn’t possibly work,” Tony stated. “That’s what I’m saying. There’s no way that this goes forward. It just gets stuck, with me here and you there. And maybe you think that’s enough right now, but it won’t be enough before long.” Tony hadn’t realised how worked up he’d gotten, but he realised then that he was breathing heavily. “And you’ll move on, and I’ll still be here. So I’m fast-forwarding, that’s all. I’m… I’m being a futurist.”

Steve was frowning, and still not looking away. It was disconcerting.

“Okay,” he said, eventually.

“Okay?” Tony asked.

“Okay,” Steve repeated. “If that’s how you feel, then I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. I understand. I understand feeling like you’re not able to—able to have someone stay with you. I’ve felt like that, too.”

“Why would you have felt like that?” Tony asked.

Even from the distance, Tony could see the subtle shifts in his expression. His mouth pulled up at the corners, just a little. “Well, believe it or not, it’s classified.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Exactly. How could anyone live their life being told ‘it’s classified’ at every corner? My job doesn’t allow me to share a lot of myself with people,” Steve explained.

Tony shook his head. “It’s not the same,” he insisted.

“It’s not,” Steve agreed. “And if that’s how you feel, then okay. I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t want, Tony. But just so you know,” he continued, suddenly very serious, “it isn’t true. You’re not unlovable just because you’re sick. You’ll find someone who you’ll think is worth it. Even if that person isn’t me.”

Tony hoped that Steve couldn’t tell that his eyes were maybe, possibly, watering just a little. He smiled across the distance at Steve, and after a moment, Steve smiled back.

“Thanks,” Tony replied, because even if it wasn’t true, it was still beautiful.

“In the meantime,” Steve said, “do you want to keep texting? Because I can be trusted to keep my feelings to myself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Tony laughed, and it sounded a little wet, but hopefully Steve couldn’t hear that. “Yeah, um. Yeah, let’s keep texting. Sorry for… We don’t have to talk about it again.”

* * *

 

Obie sent the papers over with Pepper.

Tony felt like he was about to sign his life away, for some reason that he couldn’t quite grasp onto.

“Are you okay?” Pepper asked him, watching as Tony held the pen over the forms. Tony wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, staring at the words and not moving. He was probably freaking Pepper out.

Tony looked to Pepper, and he could feel himself frowning. “Why do you think my Dad left SI to me?” he asked.

Pepper blinked. “I thought the leading theory was that he was drinking a lot at the end of his life.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, thinking. It did look like he had changed his mind near the end of his life, but why would he have done that? Was he really just delusional, or did he think that Tony might be able to be the CEO? “I, uh. I’m not going to sign these just now. I told Obie we’d wait until he was back from LA, anyway.”

Pepper obediently gathered the papers into her arms, and then took a deep breath and turned to face Tony. “I’m going to speak out of turn,” she stated.

“I see that,” Tony agreed.

“I don’t think that you should hand Stark Industries over,” Pepper said. “Your father left it to you, not Mr Stane, and it works the way it is.”

“Obie thinks that without me pushing the arms deals, the board are going to get nervous.”

Pepper shook her head. “You haven’t been designing weapons for what, four years? The board already got nervous. And you’re doing great work.”

Tony was still holding the pen. He capped it, and twirled it around between his fingers.

“The rest of the tech I’ve been making has been commercial. The real money is in arms deals, unless I can solve the world’s energy crisis—”

Tony looked back, suddenly, at the staircase down to the workshop.

Oh. There was one thing that he had been developing, and he hadn’t even considered the potential implications of it outside of his own workshop.

Buried in the chest of his suit of armour was a miniaturised arc reactor.

Tony had designed the arc reactor years ago. R&D had loved the idea, since it could revolutionise energy, but nobody could figure out how to make it any smaller than a school bus, and Obie had encouraged Tony to move on. It hadn’t been worth the money spent researching it, he’d insisted. It was good for PR, because it kept the hippies happy to see that they had been working on it, but it wasn’t worth the man hours. Everyone had moved on, Tony included.

And then, some weeks ago, Tony had needed something small and mighty to power the suit, and he’d miniaturised the arc reactor in one coffee-fuelled, feverish night. And he hadn’t even stopped since to think about the implications, because he had been so distracted by fantasising about using the suit, even though he knew he would never actually dare leave the tower.

“I’m an idiot,” Tony said. He had the answer for how SI was going to transition away from weapons _entirely_.

Obie was either going to be very happy, or very upset, and Tony wasn’t entirely sure which.

“Why are you an idiot?” Pepper asked.

Tony turned a smile on her. “I think I can solve the world’s energy crisis.”

* * *

 

Obie’s papers were sitting in his workshop under a dismantled arc reactor. Tony had taken it out of the second suit in order to reverse-engineer his own work, because he had put two arc reactors together in one very confusing night without making notes, and it was a few days _before_ he’d brought JARVIS online. Talk about bad luck.

“Tony,” Pepper said, the click of her heels stopping at the entrance to the workshop.

“Hm?” Tony replied, devoting 5% of his brain power to listening to her.

Pepper cleared her throat. “Tony, I have an early birthday present for you.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “Thanks.”

Pepper was suddenly at his side, pulling at his hair in a futile attempt to make it lie flat. Tony threw her a bewildered glance, and allocated 16% more attention to the situation.

“The present is upstairs, and it cannot wait, so save your work.”

Pepper on a warpath was not a force to be reckoned with, so Tony instructed JARVIS to save his work, and he followed Pepper up to the main rooms.

“What kind of present are we…” Tony trailed off when he realised that they weren’t alone.

Steve. Steve was standing in front of his window.

_In front of his window_. In his tower.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Pepper, you…?”

“Obie doesn’t know, and I’m not planning to tell him,” Pepper explained. “But he’s back in a few hours, so make this quick. And now I’m going to go clean the gym.” She turned on her heel and left, but Tony’s eyes hadn’t left Steve since they’d landed on him. “Have fun!” Pepper called over her shoulder.

“Thank you, ma’am!” Steve called back, also not looking away from Tony.

Tony’s breath came out in a laugh. “You’re here,” he said.

Steve smiled. “I’m here,” he agreed. “I hope that’s okay. I know that Ms Potts didn’t actually ask you if you wanted—”

Tony moved very suddenly to stand directly in front of Steve. “Can I?” he asked, lifting one hand. Steve swallowed and nodded, and Tony’s hand rested on his broad shoulder for a moment, as if checking if he was actually real.

Steve’s hand rose and caught Tony’s, holding it against his shoulder. “Is this safe?” he asked.

“It’s always more of a risk, letting more people in,” Tony admitted. “That’s why we keep it so limited. But unless you’re coming down with something, then we’re probably fine.”

“I meant,” Steve said, and then paused to swallow again. “I meant is it safe for you to be touching me?”

Tony was suddenly overcome with the need to just push past all of this and kiss Steve, but they’d put up those barriers themselves. They had agreed to just be friends.

Tony took a deep breath, and then a small step backwards. He pulled his hand away. “Uh, yeah, it’s fine,” he said. “I mean, there’s always a possibility I’ll pick something up, but I’ll be fine if I do. I have a really good doctor.” He stepped away again, and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “Actually, I really don’t like my doctor, but I think that’s just because I was used to my Dad being my doctor.”

It was the perfect opening for the conversation to turn somewhere less intimate, to clear the air of the tension. Tony had put it out there expecting Steve to take it, expecting them to stay at a friendly distance for the rest of Steve’s visit.

Steve, apparently, was not interested in taking the easy route.

“I didn’t mean to make you pull away,” he said, and moved back towards Tony.

Tony’s breath was coming in shaky. He looked up at Steve – who was really unfairly tall – and braced himself for the confession. “I’m having a hard time being this close to you and not kissing you.”

Steve exhaled a half-laugh. “You don’t have to stop yourself, if you don’t want to,” he said, and then they were kissing.

Tony wasn’t sure which of them had moved into the kiss, or maybe they both had. Steve’s arms found their way around Tony, and Tony felt like Steve was everywhere, in the best way. Steve’s mouth was lush and soft, and he was—he was kissing Tony. This was actually happening.

When Steve pulled back, his mouth was wet. Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away, and then – as if without his permission – he found that he was tracing Steve’s bottom lip with his thumb.

“You are...” Steve started, and his voice sounded wrecked, even from that first kiss. “I did not expect you, Tony Stark.”

Tony smiled.

* * *

 

Steve left soon after that, with the potential of Obie’s return looming over their heads. Steve turned back for one last kiss, even with Pepper standing there, and Tony felt drunk with it. “I—” Tony started, and then abruptly realised that he was about to say something very unwise and premature, like _I love you_. “I’ll call you later?”

“Do,” Steve replied, and then squeezed his hand before heading back through de-con.

“Wow,” Pepper said, watching him leave.

Tony sighed. “Yeah,” he agreed.

Pepper smirked at him. “So was that the best birthday present I’ve ever got for you, or what?”

“You win,” Tony agreed, and then he followed Pepper around the kitchen as she began to put dinner together. After a few minutes of watching her work, Tony added: “Hey, Pepper?” When Pepper turned to look at him, he said: “Thank you.”

Pepper smiled, looking soft and affectionate, and Tony pulled her into a hug. “You’re welcome,” she said. “And we can talk about how to make this work. If Obie knows you’re serious about each other, maybe he’ll make another exception, like he did with Rhodey.”

Tony wasn’t sure _what_ he and Steve were about each other, but he wasn’t willing to examine that again yet. For now, Tony was content with just savouring the feeling of Steve in his arms.

He should probably go back to work on the arc reactor – it would be easier to talk to Obie about SI once he remembered how he’d miniaturised the damn thing – but instead, he sat at his window and looked to the outside world.

It was getting dark out. Obie would be home soon.

Tony’s eyes drifted to Steve’s window, and they usually did. Steve walked past the window, somewhere in the depths of his apartment.

Tony’s stomach dropped as he realised that Steve was not the only thing moving in the apartment.


	4. The World, So Close

_Look at the world - so close, and I'm halfway to it!_  
_Look at it all - so big - do I even dare?_  
_Look at me - there at last! - I just have to do it_

 _Should I?_  
_No._  
_Here I go..._

 

“Tony!” Pepper shouted as she ran through the workshop.

The armour was closing around Tony’s body.

“I don’t have time to explain,” he said, as the facemask fell and the HUD sprang to life. “Steve’s in danger, I’ll be right back!”

“What _is_ that?”

Pepper was behind him in seconds, as his feet fell into three running steps followed by a leap, and then he was flying through the workshop, up the stairs, through the living area—

“JARVIS, I need to get out as quickly as possible,” he snapped. “Open the doors. Now!”

“Of course, Sir,” JARVIS responded, and opened the doors to de-con just quickly enough for him to fly through, and the doors to the outside world—

And he was in a hallway, a hallway he’d never seen before in person—

Tony smashed his way through the window, and he was outside.

He didn’t even have time to process that he was outside, flying around the tower and shooting back towards Steve’s apartment, because Steve…

The window was already smashed, so Tony just dropped through it, and immediately threw a punch at one of the robots. And, whoa, apparently he could punch pretty damn hard in the armour. The robot was flung across the room and into the wall across from Steve, who was holding his own pretty well against another, identical robot.

Steve had it pinned against the floor with a large, metal disk, and was in the process of smashing its face in with his fist, which would have been very impressive if Tony had any time to watch.

“What the hell are these things?” he shouted to Steve, attempting to tear the head off another robot.

“Killer robots!” Steve shouted back, as if that wasn’t completely obvious, and also completely absurd. “Must have—followed me here!”

Tony’s first robot had pulled itself out of the indent it had made in the wall, and was now rushing towards Tony again. With a flash of realisation, Tony lifted both of his hands and pushed one quick, very powerful blast out of the repulsors.

The blast threw Tony back a little, but it was successful: the robot had broken into pieces.

With the remainders destroyed, Steve and Tony looked to the last robot, which was smaller and looked somewhat ominous.

“It’s an explosive,” Steve said. “We’ve got to evacuate the building, that thing could go any minute!”

Tony fell to his knees in front of it, and ripped the wheels from its little body so that it would stay in place. Next, he tore the casing off and surveyed the inside.

“I can handle this,” he insisted. “Someone put a—do people really put timers in explosives, is that a thing that happens? Okay, that’s a thing that happens, apparently. I’ve got this, we have a minute and a half, plenty of time.”

Well, it would have been plenty of time when Tony had his usual dexterity. Working in the gauntlets was definitely a challenge. But hey, now he knew to work on that for next time.

Next time.

Because he was outside.

In Steve’s apartment.

 _No time for that,_ he scolded himself, and then pulled at the last wire to deactivate the explosive. “Okay, we’re good,” he said, finally looking up at Steve.

Steve, who was holding up a shield as if he wasn’t completely convinced that Tony wasn’t a killer robot himself.

A very familiar, red-white-and-blue shield.

“Uh,” Tony started, and apparently the hesitation assured Steve that he was human after all, because he shifted his stance and offered Tony a hand up. Tony took it, mostly because he was too busy processing everything that had happened in the last ten minutes to think about what his body was doing.

“I guess I’m going to need a new apartment,” Steve commented, and then fished his cell out of his pocket. He was being way too casual about this, and it was making alarm bells scream in Tony’s head. “I’m going to call SHIELD. We were dealing with these things earlier today,” he explained. “Are you with SHIELD?”

Tony stared for a moment at Steve, who was clearly waiting for someone to pick up the phone and not overly invested in what Tony was doing. “Uh, nope, I’m not. Actually I’m going to just go and fly upwards as far as I can and see what happens,” he said.

“Hey, it’s Cap,” Steve said into the phone, and then did a double-take and frowned at Tony. “Wait, what? Why are you going to fly upwards?”

“For science!” Tony replied, half-manic, and flew out of the window.

And up.

And up.

He was outside. And Steve might have been Captain America.

Tony had seen him on the news. There had been a new superhero team knocking around for a few months now, keeping mostly to themselves when they weren’t fighting. The new Captain America was one of them, as was a guy dressed like Thor, and recently the Hulk had joined them.

Steve was the new Captain America.

Tony was _outside_.

It was dark now, and he was up high enough that the stars were brighter than he had ever seen them. New York was twinkling below him, all lit up. This was the world at an angle he had never seen before.

He was outside.

After another moment’s confused hesitation, Tony started shouting in joy. “YEAH!” he shouted, his voice loud in the helmet. “Yeah!” He whooped a few times, and then thought _I’m never going back to that goddamn tower,_ and then something started to feel wrong.

Tony looked down at the armour around him, and realised that he was frosting over. “Well, that’s going to be a problem,” Tony said, and then he was falling out of the sky.

Tony flailed his arms and legs to shake the ice off, and just about caught himself before smashing into the roof of Steve’s apartment building. Instead, he landed on one knee and one fist, and looked up to find that Steve was there, looking concerned, with his phone still pressed to his ear.

Steve hung up the phone.

“Tony?” he asked, frowning deeply. “Are you Tony?”

“Uh, hi,” Tony replied. “Yes. It’s Tony. Are you Captain America?”

Steve huffed a breath. “I said I wouldn’t tell you if you guessed.”

“So you are Captain America,” Tony said. “Wow. That’s what you were doing with your day? Kicking killer robot ass?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s with the iron suit?”

“It’s a gold-titanium alloy,” Tony corrected him, and then realised that that wasn’t exactly what Steve was asking. “It’s, uh, sealed and filtered, so that I can be out here.”

Steve stepped up close to the suit. “You built yourself something so that you could go outside,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I’d never _used_ it, it was more of a working theory than anything,” Tony replied. “But then I saw the robots in your apartment, so I thought… Well. I didn’t really think.”

“It was a working theory,” Steve said, “and you gave it the ability to fly?”

“It’s my fantasy, it can fly if I want it to,” Tony objected, and Steve laughed.

Steve swung a bag over his shoulder – an artist’s portfolio case, disguising the shield, no doubt. Tony wondered if they had just modelled it on the original Captain America’s shield, or if it was the real thing.

Steve nodded towards Stark Tower. “Are you going home, or are you coming with me to SHIELD?”

Tony turned his head to look at Stark Tower, and thought about how furious Obie was going to be, and how just a moment ago he had been so sure that he was never going back.

“What is SHIELD, and how do we get there?”

Steve grinned. “I’ll give you directions if you give me a ride?”

Tony ran the equations for flight with Steve in his head, shrugged, and then got an arm around Steve’s waist and pulled him in. “You’re going to want to hold on tight,” he suggested, and then engaged the repulsors in his boots.

Steve laughed as they were lifted into the air, and then look off in the direction that Steve pointed. “This is amazing!” Steve shouted, and his hair was being whipped back by the wind, and his eyes were bright. “This is better than when I jumped out of a plane!”

“You jumped out of a plane?” Tony asked, suddenly more interested in Steve than in the entirety of Manhattan stretched before him. God, he wished he could kiss him again, but this was the price he paid for being outside.

Steve turned his grin towards the mask. “That’s a story for another time,” he insisted, and then pointed again. “That’s our stop.”

Landing with Steve was a little more difficult than alone, especially since Tony had only actually landed the suit twice before this. And one of those times, he had technically been in free-fall before catching himself just above the roof. His concentration was aimed towards not burning Steve on the repulsors and also not falling on his shiny metal ass, so it took Tony a moment too long to realise that one of the people waiting for them on the roof was Steve’s redheaded friend from his apartment.

“Seriously, Cap?” the woman asked, approaching Steve with face so void of expression that it was frightening. She was dressed in a black jumpsuit, as if she needed to look any more terrifying. “I chose that apartment for you, and you get it trashed already?”

Steve quirked a smile at her. “I didn’t exactly invite the killer robots over for a party.”

The other person in the roof was also wearing a black jumpsuit, and he had a bow and quiver slung over his shoulder. “If you’re moving,” he said, “I call dibs on choosing the pizza place for moving day.”

“No,” the woman said, “you can’t move. I like your hot neighbour.” Again, the woman’s facial expression hardly shifted, which was extremely disconcerting to Tony, especially when he was being talked about in front of his face. Well, his mask. “I have money riding on your love life, Rogers. You’re not moving.”

Steve looked sheepish. “Uh, guys,” he said, “this is Tony Stark. Tony, these are two of my teammates, Hawkeye and the Black Widow.”

Hawkeye narrowed his eyes. “Wait, that’s the Stark kid, in the suit? I thought you’d just befriended a robot.” He reached forward and knocked on Tony’s shoulder like it was a door. “I thought you weren’t allowed to go outside.”

“Uh, I’m not,” Tony replied, trying to move subtly out of Hawkeye’s reach. The armour made it a little harder to be subtle. “That’s what the suit of armour is about. I’m basically inside while being outside.”

Tony was outside. _Tony was outside_.

“If you’re done with your chit-chat,” a voice called across the roof, “you actually have some work to do.”

And then a rather intimidating man stalked towards them, his one eye trained on Tony. The other was covered with an eyepatch.

“Director Fury, this is Tony Stark,” Steve said, and Fury glared at Steve until he closed his mouth.

“I know who he is,” Director Fury said. “Suit up.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve replied, and patted Tony’s shielded arm before walking away and leaving him with Director Fury, the Black Widow, and Hawkeye.

Director Fury stared Tony out, as if he could read his expression through the faceplate.

“Hi,” Tony said. When Director Fury said nothing, he added: “This is disconcerting. Where am I supposed to look, the patch or the eye?”

Director Fury snorted, then turned around and began walking away. Hawkeye and the Black Widow followed, and so Tony trailed behind them all, his footsteps heavy and clanging.

“If you’re joining us for the fight, you’re going to need a codename,” Director Fury said as they walked down the stairs, and then immediately disappeared down a corridor.

Tony turned to the others.

“That means he wants you to join us,” the Black Widow translated for him. “How weaponised is the suit of armour?”

Tony looked down at his repulsors. “Not at all, intentionally. I can punch pretty hard, and I can make the repulors hit at a very high velocity,” he explained. When Hawkeye tilted his head, he added: “I can make things go boom.”

The Black Widow started walking again, but Hawkeye didn’t. “Hey,” he said, “you’ve been stuck in a tower your entire life, right?”

“Uh, yes,” Tony replied.

“And then you built yourself a suit of armour and escaped?”

Tony frowned, though it wouldn’t be visible to Hawkeye. “Yes?”

“You’re really not seeing what I’m seeing?” Hawkeye asked, and then the Black Widow shouted back at them until they followed.

They ended up in a large room filled with surveillance screens.

“Stark,” the Black Widow called, and then gestured to one of the men in the room. “Meet Dr Banner. He’s also on the Avengers team.”

“Right, I’ve heard of you,” Tony said, holding out his hand for a handshake. Dr Banner took it, though it mustn’t have felt much like a handshake through the armour. “I’ve read some of your work, actually, it’s brilliant. And I’m also a big fan of how you turn into a giant green rage monster.”

Dr Banner’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, thanks,” he said. “I’ve studied some of your work too, Dr Stark. But, excuse me for asking, but is this safe for you?”

“He built a suit of armour and escaped his tower,” Hawkeye pointed out, helpfully.

Tony looked from Dr Banner to Hawkeye, and then back again. “Yeah, it’s safe,” he insisted. “Nothing’s coming into the suit without my permission, trust me.”

“Okay,” Dr Banner agreed. “Just to cover our bases: what happens if something goes wrong?”

“Get me back to the tower or somewhere hermetically sealed and call my doctor,” Tony said. “I’m not going to explode on contact with the world. At least, I don’t think I am. I guess I technically have no data on that.”

“SHIELD BROTHERS,” a voice boomed from behind Tony, causing him to jump. He hoped it wasn’t visible from outside the suit. “I am told that we are to enter battle yet again today!”

The source of the booming voice was a large, blond man, dressed up in full Thor regalia.

“Wow, you’ll be the guy who dresses as Thor, then,” Tony said. “Hi, I’m Tony.”

“Tony! I enjoy your suit of iron very much! Will you be joining us for the battle?”

Dr Banner cleared his throat. “He’s not a guy dressed as Thor, Dr Stark, he’s actually Thor.” When Tony made to protest, he said: “I know, I know. Think more ‘aliens from another dimension’ and less ‘gods’. It will help.”

And that was when Steve arrived, dressed in the full Captain America suit. Tony dedicated a good few moments to just looking him up and down, slowly, because nobody could even see him do it through the armour. That suit was fitted to Steve like a second skin, showing off every one of his unlikely muscles, and the cowl was pulled down so that his beautiful face wasn’t hidden one bit.

This was definitely a memory that was going in the ‘save it for later’ file.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, approaching him. “How is your first visit to ‘outside’?”

Tony thought for a moment. “It’s loud,” he admitted. “Is it always so loud outside?”

Steve flashed him a grin. “With the kind of music you listen to, it shouldn’t be so difficult. Oh!” He snapped his fingers, as if congratulating himself for a stroke of genius. “That’s it! You’ll need a codename, for the comms. How about ‘Iron Man’?”

“Iron Man,” Tony repeated. “It’s not really accurate, but d’you know what, I like it.”

* * *

 

“ _Iron Man_ ,” Steve said through the comms. “ _SHIELD thinks that the robots are being controlled from in the building with the blue glass, at the next light. Do you see it? See if you can get in. Hulk_ ,” he called, and then pointed at a gathering of robots. “ _Smash_.”

“HULK SMASH,” the Hulk agreed.

“Uh,” Tony said, flying upward and looking around for a building with blue glass. “Yeah, I’m going to need more guidance. Do you mean the next street light?”

“ _Wow_ ,” Hawkeye commented. Tony was quickly learning that Hawkeye was an asshole.

“ _Traffic light, Iron Man_ ,” Steve explained, and then grunted, clearly in the midst of a fight that Tony could no longer see. “ _It’s a, on the street, for the cars, it has red, yellow, and green_ —”

Tony flew towards the building. “I know what a traffic light is!” he insisted, because he’d watched enough television to know _that_. He refused to be embarrassed by this situation. Or, well, he’d save the embarrassment for later.

Tony scanned the building for life, and found two life-signs in the fourth floor of the building. He flew in through one of the windows and was immediately tackled by one of the robot bastards. When he’d put the robot down, he turned to look at the two weedy young men who were standing by a large machine.

“You’re too late!” one of them shouted, a maniacal edge to his voice. The other was pointing a gun at Tony.

Tony regarded the gun for a moment, and then looked past the men and toward the machine. “So what’s this, then?” he asked, and then walked over to it.

A bullet pinged off his shoulder. “Get away!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tony said. “One of your bullets could ricochet and seriously—uh-oh.”

“ _Iron Man?_ ” Steve asked through the comm. “ _What’s ‘uh-oh’_?”

“Nothing,” Tony replied. “Nothing is ‘uh-oh’, I misspoke.” Then, to the two men: “With all due respect, which is very little, I’m going to knock you both out now so that you don’t distract me.”

When the men were out cold, Tony turned to the machine and got to work.

All of those robots were set to go boom. Very soon. It looked to have been the plan: draw the Avengers here, get them used to the way the robots had been working thus far, and then have them go off in the middle of battle.

But Tony had time. He could shut this thing down.

Tony’s hands moved as quickly as they could, but with the gauntlets, he had to slow himself down in order to ensure that he didn’t press the wrong button, or pull the wrong wire.

Shit. He didn’t have time.

The whole team was out there, fighting those robots, and they were about to detonate. All of them.

Tony took a deep breath, and then removed his gauntlets. With his hands free, he could move at twice the speed. “Come on,” he said to himself, brain working at max capacity, and hands moving as fast as he could make them. “Come on, come on, GOT IT!”

Tony let himself relax for a moment, and then hurriedly snapped his gauntlets back on.

“ _What did you do, Iron Man?_ ” Steve asked. “ _They’ve all been shut down. Are they down for good?_ ”

“They are indeed, oh Captain my Captain,” Tony replied. “They were set to go boom, but instead they’ve all gone to sleep. And I’ve got the culprits right here.” He looked at the two guys, still out cold, and then down at his hands. Tony’s armour wasn’t so useful now that he had opened it. The skin on his hands still felt a little cold from their contact with the night air. “Can we go? Are we good?” he asked.

When they were back in the jet, Steve smiled brightly at him. “Good work out there,” he said, clasping Tony’s shoulder. “If you’re interested in joining the team…”

Tony felt dizzy.

“Maybe we can talk about that later?” he suggested, and then looked around the inside of the jet. He could make them much better transportation, he thought. It wouldn’t take that much work.

He needed to sit down.

Tony realised that he probably looked ridiculous, sitting on his ass against a wall in his suit of armour, but it made him feel a little better to have something against his back. The world suddenly seemed so big, and he was in a metal suit inside of a jet, and he didn’t feel so good.

“Tony?” Steve asked, kneeling next to him. “Are you okay? Dr Banner, I think something’s wrong,” he called, and Tony tried to tell him that it was fine, but suddenly he was too dizzy to speak.

In what could have been seconds or minutes, Dr Banner was crouching in front of him.

“Tony?” Dr Banner said. “It’s Bruce. Can you hear me?”

Tony sucked in a deep breath. “I hear you,” he replied.

“Okay. Good. I need you to tell me what’s wrong,” he said in a very calm voice.

Tony’s helmet went _clang_ against the wall of the jet as he leaned his head back.

“I don’t feel good,” he said.

Bruce nodded. “Okay. Did something hit you during the fight?” he asked.

Tony shook his head. “No, I’m not injured.”

Bruce took a deep breath, as if he was bracing himself. “Tony, is the suit damaged?”

Tony swallowed bile. “I took it off.”

“You did _what_?” Steve asked, horrified.

“If you’re going to be unhelpful, I’m going to have to ask you to leave us,” Bruce told Steve, still in his calm doctor-voice. “Tony. When did you take the suit off?”

“Just the gauntlets,” Tony explained. “I needed my hands. I couldn’t, I couldn’t stop everything from exploding quickly enough with them on,” he explained. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Bruce said. Tony tried to focus on him through the HUD, but he was a little blurry at the edges. “I wish you had told me before, but I’m not mad. Listen, we’re going to get you home, okay?”

Suddenly, the Black Widow was there. “We’re almost at SHIELD. How quickly do we need him out? There’s a hospital wing, they have an operating room.”

“It’s best if we get him back to the tower,” Bruce replied. “He needs to be somewhere hermetically sealed, and not to have to leave again—”

“Bruce,” Tony said, suddenly urgent. “Bruce, I’m going to vomit.”

Bruce’s eyes were wide.

“Get us to that OR,” he told the Black Widow. “Now.”

* * *

 

Tony vomited in the OR. And then some more.

Bruce was there, dressed in scrubs and wearing a face mask. He looked like he was going to perform surgery on Tony.

The thought made Tony vomit again.

* * *

 

When Tony woke up, he was back in the tower.


	5. What Once Was Mine

_Heal what has been hurt_   
_Change the fates’ design_  
 _Save what has been lost_   
_Bring back what once was mine…_

Tony had no idea how much time passed while everything was blurry. He would wake up with Dr White there, and when he closed his eyes for what felt like seconds, it was suddenly night and Obie was sleeping in the chair by Tony’s bed.

* * *

 

He dreamed, several times, of his father.

Howard Stark was probably at his best when Tony had been sick. He had trained as a medical doctor before Tony could remember, and had taken over as his primary care provider – so when Tony was sick, he would leave Obie in charge of the company and stay at home, caring for him, watching movies together, inventing together when Tony was on the mend.

Tony dreamed of his father holding him, like he used to when Tony was little, rocking him back and forth. He dreamed of asking _don’t you need to go to work_ , like he had a million times, and of his dad’s shaky smile as he would reply, _nothing is more important than you_.

That had been the norm, once. And then Tony hadn’t been a child anymore, and Howard had been away more, had drank more, and Tony only really had Jarvis. Once or twice, Tony woke up and looked for his father, or Jarvis, only to realise that they were dead.

On those nights, Tony let himself miss his father. He felt terrible, hot and then cold in moments, too weak to do much about either state. In fact, Tony wasn’t sure he’d been this sick since before his dad and Jarvis had died.

* * *

 

Tony had really, really screwed up.

* * *

 

When he woke up feeling somewhat human again, Obie was dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed. He ran his fingers through Tony’s sweat-damp hair, and smiled sadly down at him.

“Hey, kid,” he said, his voice soft around the edges. “How are you feeling?”

Tony sighed, turning his face into his pillow. “Bad,” he admitted. “And stupid.”

Obie hummed. “Are you up to eating something?”

Tony wanted to say no, but he could smell the toast that Obie had left on his bedside table. He opened his eyes, and saw that there was also a mug of the tea that Tony’s dad used to give him when he was unwell. It was weak but spiced, and Tony associated the taste with feeling better.

“Okay,” he said instead, and forced himself to sit up.

A few bites into the toast, and feeling stronger than he had in days, Tony braved the conversation that he knew was coming. “How angry are you, exactly?”

He looked up at Obie’s face, which was lined with concern. He’d probably almost had a heart attack when he found out that Tony had left the tower. Jesus, Tony was a piece of crap.

“I’m not angry,” Obie said, and Tony would have scoffed in disbelief if he had the energy. Instead, he just raised his eyebrows. “No, really. I don’t see the point in being angry, Tony. You obviously won’t be doing anything that stupid again.”

Tony looked down at the covers. He felt disgusting, suddenly, from days of sweat and not washing.

“Yeah,” he said. “I should… get cleaned up.”

Obie hummed again. “Finish eating first,” he said. “You need your strength.”

Tony did feel better once the toast and tea were gone. He cracked his neck and winced at how sore his muscles were from a sudden fight followed by days of bedrest.

When he went to get out of bed, Obie’s big hand landed on his shoulder.

“One thing,” he said. “I just need you to promise me one thing.” At Tony’s nod, he continued: “Never try to leave this tower again.”

Tony felt sick again, but this time, he knew it wasn’t physical.

“Yeah,” he said, because it was obvious. Tony had been outside once, in a suit that was specifically designed to keep him safe. He’d taken off the gauntlets for barely a minute, and had spent the next god-knew-how-many-days in bed as a result. There had been a few times that he’d woken up convinced he was dying. “Of course.”

He was never going outside again. That was obvious.

When Tony was in the shower, he started to wonder about his armour. Had SHIELD taken it? He might be able to help them design something similar for a better candidate, maybe even with some weaponry. Tony hadn’t designed weapons in years, but if it was something that was only used by superheroes, then maybe he could exercise that creative muscle again.

And he could design a better jet for the Avengers. And maybe play with some better stretchy pants for Bruce, so that they never had to accidentally see his giant green dong again.

He could do this. Life would go back to normal, and Tony would be useful to Steve from his tower, and they could go back to how they had been before. Before Steve had turned up in Tony’s tower with the afternoon light pouring through the window, and smiled, and kissed him like he was worth everything.

When Tony was washed and dressed, he walked into the main area and headed to the stove to make more of his healing tea. Obie was sitting on the couch now, where he had obviously been worrying about Tony collapsing in the shower.

The smell of the spices wafted up from Tony’s fresh cup, and he turned to walk towards his window nook.

And stopped.

“Obie?” Tony asked, his voice shaking in a way that would have embarrassed him if he had been conscious enough.

“Yes?” Obie replied, and twisted to look at Tony, then to the window nook. “Oh. That.”

The window had been painted over.

“Why did you…?” Tony asked, unable to even finish the question. Obie sighed and walked towards Tony, then took the mug of tea out of Tony’s hand and set it on the counter.

The window had been painted slate-grey, like the colour of a prison cell. Tony wanted to vomit again.

“Sit down,” Obie insisted, and then pushed gently at Tony until he was sitting on the couch. “Look. The other windows aren’t painted. It’s not that I don’t want you looking outside.”

“It’s just that you don’t want me to be able to see Steve.”

“Yes,” Obie admitted, unflinchingly honest. “This all started with that boy. So you’re not seeing him anymore, and he’s not coming to _visit_ you here anymore, and you can have your phone back once I trust that you understand that.”

Tony felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “You took my _phone_?” he asked, horrified.

“Just for now,” Obie insisted. “You can have it back when I trust that you’ll leave him alone.”

Tony sank back into the couch, brain whirling as he attempted to process his new reality. After a moment, he replayed Obie’s words in his mind, and said: “You know he came here.”

“Did you expect that I wouldn’t know?” Obie asked, and Tony was an idiot. Of course Obie would know. Of course nobody got into this tower without him knowing it. Obie had been guarding Tony for most of his life; he wasn’t going to drop the ball like that.

Tony rubbed his face, and then looked back towards his slate-grey window. That had been his favourite place in his whole world, aside from the workshop.

Thinking about the workshop reminded Tony of his armour, and he figured that was an easier conversation to have, since he already knew that either SHIELD or Obie would have the armour. And he knew that he wasn’t getting it back either way.

“What happened to my armour?” he asked, looking back to Obie.

Obie’s mouth twitched a little, like he was trying to contain a smile. “That,” he said, “was a work of art. I’m almost sorry that it didn’t work out for you. I have it upstairs in R&D. I didn’t want to do anything with it without your permission – it’s your creation, after all.”

Here was the thing: Obie was wrong to think that this had all started with Steve. It hadn’t. Though seeing Steve attacked had pushed him to leave the tower, Tony had been working on the armour for months before he had first seen Steve. It had started when his only real friend had left, and Tony had wanted to follow. It had started with a fantasy that Tony could go outside.

And when Tony had thought about being outside, he had thought about flying. And when Tony had thought about flying, he had thought about flying with Rhodey.

Tony had a second set of armour hidden in his workshop.

For a moment, Tony almost told Obie. He wanted to come clean about everything, have Obie be angry and then forgive him, have Obie know about the arc reactors and the armours and JARVIS, and to help him incorporate it all into his new life. He wanted Obie to make everything better.

Tony opened his mouth to confess it all, and then Obie said:

“You should know that I fired Pepper Potts.”

And instead of a confession, all that fell from Tony’s lips was: “No. You can’t.”

“I did,” Obie said, voice firm and unforgiving. “She let someone into this tower without my knowledge, let alone my permission. Of course I fired her.”

Tony had handled being ill. He had handled the window being painted, and his phone being confiscated.

He couldn’t handle this.

“No,” Tony said, feeling stupid when his eyes watered and pushing on anyway. “No, Obie, she’s my friend. I need her.”

Obie sighed, as if Tony was being a child, and maybe he was being a child, but this was _unfair_.

“You don’t need her,” Obie insisted. “I can hire someone else to do her job. And she wasn’t your friend, Tony, she was hired help.”

Stung, Tony blinked up at Obie, and then stood from the couch, walked to his room, and closed the door behind him.

* * *

 

Later, when he looked for Steve’s drawing, he realised that it was gone.

That was when Tony really started to believe that this was his new reality. No Steve, no Pepper, no view of Manhattan from his window nook.

And to think that he had considered his tower a prison before.

* * *

 

A few days later, Obie admitted that he needed to get back to work.

“Is the board angry?” Tony asked, drinking coffee at the table as Obie prepared himself to leave. “About the whole armour situation?”

“The board doesn’t know,” Obie replied. Things had been slowly cooling between them, as Tony adjusted to the new situation and Obie stopped being concerned that he was going to collapse at any minute. Tony still didn’t feel one hundred percent, and had been falling back into nausea a few times a day, but he was a lot stronger than before. “Nobody knows it was you. The press is convinced that it was a robot.”

Tony nodded. “That’s good,” he admitted.

Obie looked down at his phone. “Ah, your new PA is here,” he said, turning toward the de-con door. “She’s a cute one, you’ll like her,” he commented as he went to meet her.

Tony missed Pepper desperately. He reminded himself that he had lost his carers before – Jarvis had died suddenly, with Tony’s father, and Yinsen had been fired after allowing Tony to talk to that reporter – and he had come to like each replacement. When he had been mourning his father and Jarvis, he couldn’t have imagined liking Yinsen, but then Yinsen was kind and patient. When Tony had been bitter about Yinsen being fired, Tony couldn’t have imagined liking Pepper, but then Pepper was amazing, and funny, and Tony was going to miss her forever.

“… And if anything happens, you call me immediately,” Obie was saying. “If it’s medical, also call Dr White. I’m not always here in person, but I’ll come back if I’m needed.”

“Of course,” a woman’s voice replied. “I understand, Mr Stane. You must be Tony.”

Tony suddenly realised that he recognised that voice.

When Tony turned, he came face-to-face with the Black Widow.

She had been wearing a black jumpsuit both times that Tony had seen her, but now, she was dressed in a fashionable blouse, a pencil skirt, and heels. Her hair was pinned up, and weirdest of all, she was _smiling._

“Hi,” Tony managed, eminently confused.

“Tony, this is Natalie Rushman,” Obie introduced her, and gave Tony a discrete thumbs-up behind Natalie’s back. Natalie smiled innocently at Tony. “I’ll be leaving in a minute. Or maybe I could stay for breakfast?” he suggested, almost leering at Natalie.

Natalie smiled. “Sure. How about pancakes?”

When Natalie got to work on making pancakes, Tony sat back and watched her. He was halfway to asking what the hell was going on, but it was obvious that Obie didn’t know who she was. Tony didn’t even really know who she was, except that she was definitely not a PA. Tony had seen her wrap a robot around a lamppost seemingly just by jumping over it.

“Come here,” Natalie suggested, smiling at Tony. “You can have the first batch. Chocolate?”

“Sure,” Tony replied, and watched as Natalie slid the first pancake onto a plate and poured more batter into the pan.

She lifted up the bottle of chocolate sauce and drizzled it onto the pancake, in a perfect ‘S’.

The next pancake landed, and Natalie drizzled more chocolate, this time in two perfect ‘h’s.

She flipped a third pancake onto the stack and gave Tony a pointed look. Tony smiled at her, lifted his fork, and began to eat.

If she wanted him to be quiet, he could be quiet.

* * *

 

Natalie didn’t say anything unusual to Tony once Obie had left. Instead, she started doing laundry, and only asked him questions regarding his health and diet.

Whenever Tony had the urge to ask, he thought back to her message of ‘shh’, and kept his mouth shut.

Later that day, Natalie smiled politely at him, and said, “I’m going to draw you a bath. What kind of shampoo do you use?” and then led him to the bathroom.

She mostly closed the door, and started the water, and then picked up Tony’s shampoo and turned to Tony without dropping her innocent smile.

“Okay,” she said, once the water was running. “We can talk in here. Quietly.”

“What the _hell_?” Tony asked, because that was all he really had to say.

Natalie’s expression doesn’t shift. “Keep smiling,” she said. “You’re on candid camera.” She pointed at something on the bottle, as if she was showing it to Tony. “Cameras everywhere, including in here. They’re old. Bugs everywhere too, but they’re new.”

Tony nodded, as if she was explaining something about the ingredients. “Why are you here?”

“There are no cameras in your workshop, just bugs,” Natalie explained. “Why?”

Tony blinked. “Uh, probably because I’d notice them?” he suggested, realising that if there were really cameras here, they must be hidden in plants and other clutter. “I know everything in that workshop too well for cameras to be placed anywhere useful. Why are you here?”

Natalie eyed the water filling the tub. They didn’t have long left. She picked up a bottle of liquid soap next. “If I asked you to escape, what would you do?”

Tony tried really hard not to frown. “Immediately? I have another suit of armour in the workshop. It’s not ready, though. No power source right now, and it could use some upgrades.”

“And if you had the suit?” Natalie pressed.

Tony thought. “One window on every level has to be actual glass, so that it can be broken if there’s a fire,” he explained. “I’d break one of those. Why?”

“Work on the suit,” Natalie insisted, and then turned off the water. “So I want to try to get you using something more organic, maybe eucalyptus, okay?”

Natalie left Tony’s bathroom, and Tony sat there for a few minutes, fully-clothed, before he could convince himself to move.

Something was very, very wrong.

* * *

 

In the next two days, Natalie acted like nothing had happened.

Tony continued to fall into bouts of fatigue. He worked on the arc reactor and the armour anyway, often pushing through waves of nausea. He updated the spare armour to fix the icing problem, and added dexterity to the gauntlets, and with one half-dizzy bout of genius, he uploaded JARVIS into the armour to help him multitask and to ensure that JARVIS could autopilot if something went wrong.

When Obie came back from work with the papers for transitioning SI over to him, Tony glanced over Obie’s shoulder to see Natalie very subtly shake her head.

“I just want to wait until I feel a hundred percent again,” Tony told Obie. “I think this is something I should be doing with all of my mind present.”

* * *

 

After that, he didn’t feel dizzy or fatigued even once.

* * *

 

Another day passed, and then Natalie encouraged him into the bathroom, turned on the water, and said: “Now. Go to SHIELD.”

Tony thought about everything that had gone wrong last time, and hesitated. He didn’t say anything, but his expression must have been conflicted, because Natalie regarded him with piercing eyes. Tony realised then that he was no longer speaking to Natalie the PA, but to the Black Widow. “You saved our lives in that battle,” she said. “Call this repayment. Go to SHIELD.”

“Okay,” Tony said, and left the bathroom, and left the tower.


	6. Just How Blind I've Been

_All those days, watching from the windows_  
 _All those years, outside looking in_   
_All that time, never even knowing_   
_Just how blind I've been_

Once he was outside, Tony scanned the street. “J, can you see Natalie?” he asked, and JARVIS helped him zone in on the Black Widow. She was walking out of Stark Tower and glancing behind her, probably checking to see if anyone was following.

Tony swooped down to the street, and as he approached her, he called: “Looking for a ride, Miss?”

Natalie held out a hand and allowed herself to be swept up and away from the street. Tony swung her around and span, causing her to fall into his arms in the same hug-and-fly position he’d used with Steve.

The Black Widow, to his complete surprise, actually laughed. “Okay,” she said, “now I see what Steve meant about the flying. He said it was even better than when he jumped out of a plane into Nazi territory.”

“What the hell is happening?” Tony asked, now that he could speak openly. “Wait—Nazi territory?”

Natalie blinked. “I thought you’d figured out that he’s Captain America. The suit isn’t exactly subtle.”

“I thought he was _the second Captain America_ , that’s what the press have been—Are you saying that he’s Original Flavour Captain America? How is that even possible? How old is he?”

Natalie’s expression barely shifted, but she got a little tight around the mouth, like maybe she felt guilty for revealing Steve’s secret. “Depends how you count,” she answered. “He was frozen in the arctic for seventy years.”

“He was frozen in—?” Tony stopped, because this was a fractal pattern of confusion that he wasn’t willing to delve into right now. “You know what, I can’t handle this right now. One problem at a time. Why did you have me break a window in my tower?”

“We’re almost there. We’ll explain what’s happening when the team is together,” she said. They were up high enough that Natalie must have been cold, but she didn’t complain.

When they were approaching the building, Tony said, “Okay, Natalie, I’m going to let you down before I land.”

“Natasha,” she corrected. “My name is Natasha.”

Tony blinked, and then smiled a little behind the mask before helping her jump down onto the roof. He landed beside her, more gently now that he’d made the upgrades, and within seconds Steve had barrelled into his arms.

“Hi,” Tony said, being careful not to hurt Steve as he wrapped his metal arms around him.

Steve pulled back a little, and smiled. “Hi,” he replied. “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

“Why _am_ I seeing you again?” Tony asked. “No, wait, actually: are you really the original Captain America? I thought you were just the new model.”

Steve still had his arms around Tony’s suit, and he started to look a little sheepish, but he didn’t pull away. “Uh, yeah, I’m the original,” he explained. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to not tell you, everything just happened so fast.”

“Let me get this straight,” Tony said, and then paused for long enough to get a handful of Steve’s ass, because he could and because it made Steve squeak. “I’ve been macking on a superhero from the 1940s?”

And then Director Fury was beside them, leather trench coat flapping in the wind. He stared Tony in the mask again, with the distinct expression of someone who did not have enough time for Tony’s shit. “Come with me,” he said, and then span around and walked away.

Tony looked at Steve, who was still in his arms, and whose ass he was still grabbing. “Is he always so cheery?”

“Yes,” Steve replied, and then took him by the arm and led him down the stairs into the building, around several corners, and into a meeting room.

The whole team was there.

Thor – actual Thor, alien-god-Thor, not just a guy in a costume, _shit this team was awesome_ – was wearing normal-people clothes, but it somehow served to make him look less human. He beamed at Tony and patted him hard on his shielded shoulder.

“It is good to see you again, Man of Iron!” he greeted before taking a seat around the table.

“Steve, no offence, but I think Thor is still my favourite,” Tony said.

Steve smiled. “Sorry, buddy, but I’m pretty sure he’s got a girlfriend.”

“Damn,” Tony replied, and lifted one gauntlet to brush some of Steve’s hair out of his face, because he could, and he didn’t know if he would be able to again. “I guess you’ll have to be my favourite, then.”

“BARF,” Clint added, helpfully.

Natasha kicked him in the shin, which he completely deserved.

“Settle down, children,” Director Fury said, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Iron Man, you might want to sit down for this.”

Tony looked dubiously at one of the chairs, and then scanned it for good measure. To his surprise, it was reinforced to the point that it could probably hold two Iron Man suits. “Nice,” he commented, and then sat down. “So what did you guys call me in for? Because if the world isn’t ending, I’m not going to lie, I’ll be pretty upset.”

The room was quiet.

“Oh god, the world is ending,” Tony said. “I take it back, I am more upset that the world is ending than I would have been if it wasn’t. Why did I even say that?”

“Tony,” Bruce said, leaning his elbows onto the table and adjusting his glasses. “The world isn’t ending. But I had to talk to you.”

Tony blinked. “You had to talk to me? You specifically?” he asked. “What’s the rest of the Breakfast Club here for? Moral support?”

Something beeped, and Bruce looked down at what Tony now realised was not a watch. “Blood pressure,” Bruce explained, and then breathed deeply.

Tony watched, fascinated. “If you’re that easy to piss off, maybe we shouldn’t all be in this enclosed space,” he suggested.

“I’m not angry at you,” Bruce explained. “It’s situational anger. Listen. You’re not going to like this.”

“I’m already not liking this,” Tony pointed out.

Bruce gave him a long look, and then said: “When you were sick in the OR, I thought you’d be with me for longer, before Stane had you whisked away. When we were there, I took some blood from you.”

Tony waited for the problem, and then glanced at the other people in the room. All of them looked some degree of grim and determined, even Thor. He looked back to Bruce. “O…kay?”

“I realise that I should have disposed of your blood once you were taken out of my care, but I didn’t,” Bruce went on. “I’m sorry for the violation of your privacy.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, a little bewildered. “Okay? What did you do with my blood?”

“My first doctorate is in genetics,” he explained, which made Tony frown.

“Wait, you wanted to use my blood for research? Without asking me? Pretty sure that breaks all kinds of ethical boundaries,” he pointed out, and then changed his mind. “Well, I guess I was on lockdown and you couldn’t ask me. Still, weird, but not Thor-looking-upset-weird. What happened? Did you clone me by accident?” His eyes widened with the possibilities. “Did you _Hulk-clone me_?”

Bruce frowned. “What? No. I didn’t want to use your blood for research, Tony, I wanted to see if there was a way that I could help you. You reacted so quickly to the outside world, I thought—I thought something else might be wrong with you, that was going unnoticed.”

Uh-oh. Tony braced. “Is there something else wrong with me?”

Tony looked to Steve then, whose jaw was clenched so hard that it looked like it hurt.

Bruce removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” he explained. “I can’t know this for sure without a lot more research, but I think…” he trailed off for a moment, and then looked up at Tony. “I think your immune system is severely underdeveloped, like an infant’s, because it’s never been exposed to common viruses or bacterial infections.”

“SCID is—”

“I know what SCID is,” Bruce interrupted him. “I know that SCID is very complicated. But Tony, I don’t think you have SCID.”

Everything was suddenly very quiet.

Tony could hear himself breathing too hard in the suit, and then he said: “What? That’s ridiculous. I was diagnosed as a baby. You saw me get sick when I was outside.”

Bruce looked very uncomfortable, and his wrist-monitor beeped again. “Yes, I saw that. That’s actually why I called you in, instead of contacting you another way. You weren’t sick when you left the OR.”

“I vomited on your shoes like, three times,” Tony protested, confused, and more than a little scared.

Bruce nodded. “You did. And I am now almost completely sure that you were having an anxiety attack.” Tony placed his gauntlets on the table, ready to stand, and Bruce continued: “That’s why we sent Natasha to see you.”

Tony looked at Natasha then, who managed to look both sympathetic and completely blank. “I don’t think Bruce is wrong,” she said. “I had some of your food tested. You were being poisoned.”

Tony thought back to how he had felt better once he had insisted on waiting until he wasn’t sick to sign Obie’s papers. And then he thoroughly rejected that theory.

“I have records,” Tony said. “I haven’t been poisoned my entire life, I have—”

Tony suddenly stopped, feeling cold from the inside out.

“Tony?” Steve asked, leaning forwards.

“Everybody shut up,” Tony said. “I need four minutes.”

And then he and JARVIS delved into the records.

Tony had looked before, at his medical records, back when he had been interested in learning about his illness and any potential cures. But Tony had a rare form of SCID, and there was nothing even on the horizon for him. Except he’d wondered, once or twice, why Howard didn’t seem to care to look into that.

And he’d wondered, once or twice, why Howard had insisted on being his primary doctor when there were easier options. And how he had been so unlucky that his son had been sick just after his wife had died, tragically, in childbirth. And why Howard had pulled away when Tony wasn’t a small child anymore, and started drinking.

And why Howard Stark had signed the company over to his sick son in his will.

Tony had looked at his records before, but he had never had a reason to look at the data behind them, to look at the input into the system, at whether someone had opened a door legally or forced it open. He’d never thought to look at exactly how words had ended up on a screen.

It was elegant. Tony would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it. But when he was looking, it was elegant, and it may as well have had his father’s signature on it.

“JARVIS,” he said, staring at the numbers on the HUD. “The doctors. Dr White.”

He looked into the financial records of Dr White, which was hugely illegal, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to even consider that. And there it was, payment from Obie, from around a corner that wasn’t simply healthcare coverage.

“Oh my god,” Tony said, and lifted the faceplate. He looked at the team around him.

“Tony,” Steve said, placing his hand on Tony’s gauntlet. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Why would...?” Tony asked, breathing in air from the outside world, noticing that the temperature was a little cold in this room. “Why would Obie—Why would my _Dad_ —?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Have you ever heard of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy?”

Tony stared at him, suddenly feeling nothing at all, and then closed the faceplate.

“I have to go,” he said, his voice echoing strangely in the helmet. The others were protesting, but he could hardly make sense of their words. “JARVIS, mute the outside,” he said, and then stood, completely calm, and left the room.

Steve followed him up to the roof, clearly speaking, and occasionally trying to touch his shoulder or his arm. Tony ignored him – somehow couldn’t really process his presence at all – and flew away from SHIELD headquarters.

* * *

 

Tony didn’t know where he was. He’d stopped paying attention minutes, maybe hours ago. It was getting dark. He couldn’t remember what time he had left SHIELD, but it had definitely been daylight when he’d flown with Natalie. Natasha.

He eventually landed on a roof of a very tall building, so maybe he was still in New York, or maybe it was another city. He didn’t bother asking JARVIS. Instead, he flipped the faceplate up and instructed JARVIS to call Obie.

“Tony, thank god,” Obie said, breathless. “Where _are_ you?”

“Obie, am I sick?” he asked. He could feel the wind on his face.

Obie was quiet for a very long time. “Why would you ask that,” he said eventually, and it was so flat that it didn’t even sound like a question.

Tony watched the tiny lights of cars passing in the distance. He had never been in a car before. How was he supposed to function in the real world?

“Where are you, Tony?” Obie asked, and he sounded angry, but Tony couldn’t process it.

“JARVIS, send Obie my coordinates,” he said.

While he waited, Tony thought about his father.

He thought about how Howard Stark had been at his best when Tony had been sick. How he’d held Tony and told him that he was the most important thing in the world, and that he was never going to let anything hurt him.

He’d said that so often, hadn’t he? _‘I’ll never let anything hurt you.’_ And he’d protected Tony from the entire world, by building him a tower, locking the door, and throwing away the key.

Tony thought about when Howard had started drinking, and had started spending less and less time with Tony. There were weeks where the only other person Tony saw in real life was Jarvis, interspersed with visits from Obie.

Obie, who had never yelled at him, not once in his life. Obie, who had picked up the pieces after Howard’s death and looked after the company. Who had always been there for him.

Tony watched Obie approach, and he was barely even surprised that he was in Tony’s original Iron Man armour.

Obie landed on the roof, not far from Tony.

“You made some upgrades,” Tony noted, gesturing to the bulk that wasn’t on his armour before. It was bigger, now, probably with all kinds of weaponry.

Obie flipped his faceplate up. “I did,” he agreed, and then stared Tony out.

“Have you always known?” Tony asked. “That I wasn’t sick?”

Obie glared, as if that was an insulting question, as if he hadn’t been poisoning Tony for days.

“Of course not,” he spat. “I’m not a monster.”

And Tony’s world had somehow shifted, because everything looked different now. And Obie looked like a monster, after all.

“I didn’t find out until after the accident,” Obie said. “I wanted to know why that bastard signed the company over to you instead of me. So I looked into your records, from your original diagnosis. It turns out that doctors who can be paid off to lie can also be paid off to tell the truth.”

Tony breathed deeply, and the air tasted different, out here.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “Why did you keep me locked in that tower all those years?”

Obie laughed, and gestured around them, as if to the entire world. “And what, Tony? What were you going to do? You have no idea how to live in the real world. You’ve been taken care of your entire life. I looked after you.”

“Looked after me?” Tony asked, and anger was welling up in him for the first time all day. “You kept me locked up! I could have walked away from that goddamn tower years ago!”

“I kept you happy,” Obie insisted. “I kept you fed and clothed, I kept you working, I even let your little friend from MIT come in whenever he wanted. I gave you everything!” Tony felt like he might explode at any moment, and he was eminently grateful for the Iron Man armour, because he wasn’t sure his legs would have been up to the task of holding him up. “And you can come back to the tower, Tony.”

Tony blinked. “What?”

Obie held out his arms, as if he were some gracious saint. “You can come back. We can forget about all of this. What are you going to do out here, kid? You don’t know how to live. Just come back with me, and it will be like this never happened.”

Tony was a little ashamed that it was actually tempting. But more than that, he was furious.

“You poisoned me!” he spat.

Obie lifted his hands a little, as if he were calming a wild beast. “I had never done that before,” he promised. “I just needed to make sure you wouldn’t leave again. You were never in any real danger.”

Tony stared at Obie, who had lied to him and trapped him and poisoned him, and he realised that he really had to say it out loud.

“I’m not going back to the tower,” he said, voice as firm as he could make it. “I’m never going back.”

Obie’s facemask flipped down. “ _I was afraid you were going to say that_ ,” he replied, in Iron Man’s strange, modulated voice.

And then he shot something at Tony.

Tony jumped and flew away, then landed on the next building. He lowered his own mask and said to JARVIS, “Give SHIELD my coordinates. Tell them I’m in trouble.”

But Tony didn’t know how long he’d been flying, earlier, or how quickly the Avengers could get to him.

Whatever Obie had shot caused an explosion. It looked like there were small rockets stored in the shoulders of his suit – another was launched at Tony, who scrambled to get to the other side of the building.

There were screams.

Tony flew around the building and shot several repulsor blasts at Obie, and then took off, trying to draw Obie away from where he could hurt someone. Which was of course not so easy, since he was still launching rockets, and bullets, and blasts of his own—

How weaponised _was_ that suit?

Tony fell from the sky when he was caught by a rocket, and he landed hard on the asphalt of a highway. Obie landed heavily by him, and started shooting again.

Tony ran over to the side of the highway and over the barrier, trying to draw Obie away—

And Obie threw a goddamn _car._

Tony caught it like this was a really fucked up game of catch, and sustained several shots to the chest as he placed the car down as carefully as possible, trying not to be distracted by the screaming family inside.

“ _Just give it up, Tony_!” Obie insisted, going for another rocket. It looked like he had ran out. With the moment of distraction, Tony started flying upwards.

“ _Sir, the suit is at 40% power_ ,” JARVIS told him.

Obie was following him. That was good.

“ _My suit is more powerful than yours, Tony, there’s no point in trying to escape. The way I see it, you have two options: come back to the tower, or die out here, tonight._ ”

Obie shot off another blast at Tony, causing him to go off balance, but he continued upwards.

“ _Sir, the suit is at 35% power_.”

“Okay, stop telling me, just leave it on the HUD,” Tony insisted.

He was flying from side to side, trying to stay out of Obie’s shots. It was mostly successful, because Obie was piloting his Iron Man armour alone, with no help from JARVIS. It had really been a stroke of genius for Tony to put JARVIS in the armour, it allowed him to do so many more things at once—

Tony realised, suddenly, how he was going to get out of this.

The relief of having a plan caused him to miss one of Obie’s blasts, and this one was followed by Obie grabbing at his ankle and flinging him downwards. By the time Tony had caught his balance, Obie had both armoured hands around his neck, and was attempting to crush Tony’s suit.

They were high enough.

“Your suit is powerful,” Tony agreed, and it was an honest assessment. If Tony had been weaponising his suit, he would have gone for something a little less obvious, but Obie’s upgrades definitely packed a punch. “How did you deal with the icing problem?”

“Icing…?” Obie asked, and then seemed to realise that he was coated in a layer of ice. Tony lifted one arm upwards and around, breaking Obie’s chokehold, and then gave him one good hammer punch to send him downwards.

As Obie fell, Tony and JARVIS got to work. “Okay,” Tony said, when the two of them had figured out how this was going to work, and Obie was climbing the sky and aiming for him again. “Put a timer on the HUD for me, baby.”

“ _Of course, Sir,_ ” JARVIS replied.

Tony allowed himself to take a blast and fell to Obie’s level, suspended a few feet above a block of offices.

“ _You know, Tony_ ,” Obie said, taking aim, “ _I’m not the one who did this to you. Your father is._ ”

And it was true, in a sense. But it was also so far from the truth that it was laughable.

“He was sick, Obie,” Tony replied. “He did this to me because he was mentally unwell. You did this to me because you wanted my company.”

“ _SI is MY company!_ ” Obie insisted, and shot more blasts at Tony, who ducked and shielded himself behind the offices. “ _I ran SI all these years, you don’t get to claim it just because your name is on the building._ ”

And then, the sound of a jet approaching.

“That is definitely going to buy me enough time,” Tony said, relieved, and continued to talk to JARVIS as the Avengers arrived on scene and started fighting with Obie.

“ _You couldn’t fight your own battles, Tony?_ ” Obie shouted from where he had narrowly avoided being caught in one of Hawkeye’s nets. He shot a repulsor blast at Cap, who deflected it with his shield, and the blast shot back and almost hit Obie. “ _You need to call in your little friends? I’ll kill you all if I have to!_ ”

Tony reappeared and faced off against Obie. He was still muttering to JARVIS, but he had just enough time to say, “Hey, Obie – just in case this wasn’t obvious, you are fired.”

“ _You can’t fire me, you little shit, I own you_ ,” Obie snarled.

“And go, J,” Tony said, followed by: “You’re wearing my suit of armour, Obie. You can do all the upgrades you want, but I know the foundation. And right now, I have a friend coming in the back door.”

“ _What are you—_ ” Obie started, and then all his limbs went unnaturally straight.

Tony grinned and flipped his facemask back. “You’ll be hearing the voice of a British man right now, I imagine,” he said, as Obie’s suit glided by its own power to land him on the building. “That’s my friend JARVIS. Say hello, J.”

“ _Hello, Sir,_ ” JARVIS’s voice said from Obie’s suit.

“JARVIS and I just hacked you, in case you’re still confused,” Tony explained. “I knew my tower well enough to get out, and I know my suit well enough to get in.”

The suit knelt down, and Obie was trapped inside.

Tony landed on the building beside him.

“I think you can stay in there until someone arrives to arrest you,” he said.

Obie may or may not have replied. His mask was down, and JARVIS was now in control of everything, including the vocals.

The jet touched down beside them. Cap, who had already jumped onto the building, pulled his cowl down and looked at Obie carefully.

“I guess you didn’t really need us after all,” he said, and then smiled.

When the Avengers were all standing around Obie, Tony finally allowed himself to laugh. He probably sounded more than a little hysterical, but today, he had gone from being a SCID patient stuck in his tower to not being sick at all. He didn’t know how else to react.

“Oh man,” Clint said, “I can’t believe we got here so late. I wanted to see Iron Man vs. Iron Man.”

Natasha smacked him around the back of the head.

“What?” Clint asked, rubbing his head where Natasha had hit him. “I would have been rooting for our Iron Man!”

Steve looked at him, a grin plastered on his ridiculously beautiful face, and then Tony decided that enough was enough and pulled him in by the waist. Up close, and outside, Steve was even more amazing.

“What are you going to do now, Tony Stark?” Steve asked, and Tony could see the lights of the city reflected in Steve’s eyes.

“Now,” Tony replied, “I am going to kiss you.”

And he did. And just for good measure, Tony dipped him too, which made Steve laugh against his mouth.

“Okay,” Clint said, sounding unimpressed. “Okay, but there’s one more thing I have to say.”

Tony pulled back from Steve and Steve’s lush mouth, and then leaned in and kissed him again before letting him up from the dip. Steve’s hands curled around Tony’s helmet, and Tony was free. He’d had no idea that freedom felt like this.

“Maybe give them a few minutes,” Bruce suggested.

“No, seriously,” Clint insisted, and when Tony turned his head to look at him, Clint was holding up one accusatory finger and pointing straight at Tony. “You.”

“Me?” Tony asked.

Clint glared. “You were trapped in a tower for your whole life, guarded by a monster.” At this, he turned the finger to point at Obie, but didn’t take his eyes off Tony. “And then you built yourself a suit of armour, beat the monster, and escaped.”

Tony glanced around at the others, and then shrugged. “I suppose that’s not an inaccurate assessment,” he said.

Clint threw up both arms. “Don’t you see? You’re like, the most badass Disney princess ever!”

Tony Stark was never going back to his tower.


	7. At Last, I See the Light

_Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight_  
_Now I'm here, suddenly I see_  
_Standing here, it's all so clear_  
_I'm where I'm meant to be_

_And, at last, I see the light._

 

“I have your four cheeseburgers,” Pepper said, handing over a brown paper bag. Tony snatched the bag away from her and lifted it to his face to take a whiff. “I really want to urge you not to actually eat them all at once. Just because you’re healthy enough to be outside doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

Rhodey was at the podium, doing some kind of speech to the press he’d insisted on before Tony could go in front of them. It went something like this _: blah blah new to large crowds, blah blah don’t overwhelm him, blah blah rules blah_.

Tony was standing onstage next to Steve, who was dressed in a suit but was still unmistakably Captain America. Tony noticed the occasional flash of photography from the press towards the two of them. However, nobody seemed to notice that the rest of the Avengers were stationed in various places around the room, just waiting for anything to go wrong.

Well. They had probably noticed Thor, at least. He wasn’t easy to miss.

“Okay,” Steve said. “Looks like it’s almost time. You ready?” he turned to Tony, eyes bright and blue and unbearably caring. Tony was sure that if he said ‘no’, Steve would find a way to get him out of there without a single protest.

Instead, Tony smiled. “Ready for this to be over with,” he admitted, and Steve squeezed his spare hand before letting him walk to the podium.

The press were all silent. Rhodey had apparently prepped them well.

“Uh, hi,” Tony said, and then frowned down at them. This was weird. “Okay, we’re going to try this a little differently. I’m going to just sit here,” he suggested, and then moved to sit on the step in front of the podium. “You can all, let’s all just sit on the floor, that’s great.”

Tony unwrapped one of the cheeseburgers and took a bite. Someone took a picture. “Oh my god, this is amazing,” he said, finally understanding why America was obsessed with fast food. “Okay, let’s get started. I obviously didn’t call you all here to watch me eat four cheeseburgers, though that is what you’re about to do.”

There was a light smattering of laughter.

“I was told in no uncertain terms that I couldn’t keep you all away for much longer, and it was better that I talked to someone about what happened to set the record straight. And I thought it sounded easier to get it out at once to all of you, instead of doing some sappy interview for someone who’d just twist the story. So here it goes:

“I’ve read some of the stories that have come out in the past month. You all managed to put a lot of the story together. First, yes, I am Iron Man.”

There was shifting in the room as a few reporters held up their hands. Tony had never actually watched a press conference, so he wasn’t sure if this was normal procedure, or a part of Rhodey’s instructions.

Tony pointed at one of the reporters. “You, go.”

“Dr Stark, as you know, there were several pictures taken during that battle,” the reporter said. “Could you comment on the pictures of yourself and Captain America?”

There had been a picture of Tony dipping Captain America and kissing him on the front page of several papers. Clint had framed the one with the caption, ‘THE PRINCE OF STARK TOWER CELEBRATES HIS FREEDOM’.

“I think that’s a press conference for another day,” Tony said. “Let’s just stick with me for now. The Avengers will talk about Avengers business together.” After a moment, Tony added: “And I’d prefer Mr Stark, if it’s all the same to you. My Dad was Dr Stark. He had the doctorates _and_ the medical degree.

“And speaking of dear old Dad, I think we should probably start there. I’ve spoken to several psychologists in the last few weeks. You’ve all been speculating on why my father would lie to me and the world about my illness. Some of you suggested that he just hated me, wanted me locked away somewhere where he didn’t have to deal with me, could pretend I didn’t exist.

“That’s not true. My father loved me. But he was sick. He lost my mother when she died in childbirth. She was the love of his life. After that, I was all he had, and I became the love of his life. But when I was a baby, I kept getting ill – just little things, like chest infections. And he started to panic. He wanted to keep me safe. But I wasn’t the one who was sick, he was.

“The psychologists I’ve spoken with have all agreed that my father seems to have suffered from Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. He had the syndrome; I was the proxy. And most people who have a mental illness like this, it can be noticed by friends or doctors, but my Dad was unfortunately not ‘most people’. He was a billionaire, and a genius. He was rich, so he could afford to pay off some doctors to agree with his diagnosis, and he could lock me up in a tower by myself. And he was a genius, so he could hack records and change test results, and he could become a medical doctor himself without much effort, so that nobody else had to see me, and so nobody else had a chance of working it out.

“I want to be clear: I believe that in my Dad’s mind, he was doing what was best for me. He thought he was keeping me safe. But what he did was abuse, and it needs to be looked for, even in people who you might think are too smart for it.”

There were hands up in the room again. Tony took a deep breath, feeling tired from the crowd already, and gestured to one of the reporters.

“Mr Stark, did you have any idea that this was happening?”

“No,” Tony replied. “No, I had no idea. I had no reason to believe I didn’t have SCID. I was sick a lot as a kid, actually, and now that I look back at my childhood, I’m not sure whether or not I was being given something to convince me and others who saw me that I had SCID. And – here’s the thing – it’s sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy, because I really do have a fucked up immune system now, since I’ve never had to interact with the real world.”

He gestured to another reporter.

“Do you believe that Obadiah Stane knew the true details of your health?”

“Uh, no. I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “I can’t be sure. From what Obie—From what Mr Stane told me during our fight, he claims that he didn’t know until after Dad died. He claims that he looked into it because Dad left Stark Industries to me and he didn’t understand why.

“I haven’t gone out of my way to find out what he knew and when he knew it,” he admitted. “The important thing to me is that Mr Stane did find out, years ago, and he opted to keep me in the dark about it. He opted to keep me in Stark Tower, presumably for the rest of my life.

“Now, I imagine you want to know about the Iron Man suit. I built the armour as a way to interact with the outside world. It was never meant to be a weapon – I just wanted to leave the tower. I was inspired once Rhodey left for deployment, and after I realised that I could make the suit fly, I made another one for him.” He threw a grin over his shoulder to Rhodey. “Sorry that you haven’t got your own yet, Rhodey.”

“I’d like mine to be black,” Rhodey replied, which caused another titter of laughter.

Tony leaned back against the podium. “I wasn’t actually going to use it, probably,” he admitted. “I never even seriously considered it. It was a fantasy. But then I saw Captain America being attacked from my window, and I decided to go and help him. That was the first time I went outside, and that was when you saw me fighting with the Avengers, before you knew there was a person in the suit.

“I got sick as a result of that. Dr Banner now informs me that I just had an anxiety attack, but Stane used it as an excuse to manipulate me into staying in the tower. I know now that he drugged me to keep me feeling sick. I was down for days. I missed my twenty-fifth birthday to it.

“And then… Well, long story short, the Avengers got back in touch because they found evidence that I didn’t have SCID. I looked into the records, and realised what my Dad had done. That was when the fight with Stane happened.

“And that’s all she wrote,” he finished, and then addressed the hands.

“What are you doing with your life, now that you are out of the tower?”

Tony smiled. “Well, right now, I’m catching just about every cold and virus going around and really confusing my immune system,” he admitted. “But seriously. Lots of things. I’m sure you’ll hear more from the Avengers, for a start. We’ve been training together. You’ve already figured out that we all moved into the mansion that my parents used to live in. It’s like a weird superhero frat house, you guys would have a field day if we ever allowed you to see it.

“I’m also finishing up my third doctorate. I got to actually visit MIT, which is where I got most of my degrees. That was a real treat.

“And on top of that, there’s Stark Industries. I’m still working with R&D, and of course I’m now trying to figure out my role as CEO. So I’m very busy.

“Oh!” he added. “And Dr Banner is teaching me to drive, which is terrifying for everyone involved.”

Tony shoved more burger into his mouth as he waved at another reporter. “I’m sure you’ve seen the many stories which have compared your story to a modern-day fairy tale,” the reporter said. Tony rolled his eyes, because Clint liked to save every single one and brandish them in Tony’s face with unencumbered joy. “What are your thoughts on that?”

Tony pushed himself to stand. “Well, I’m glad that Stane gets to be the Beast of Stark Tower nowadays, not me,” he admitted. “But mostly I just want to have my life, and I’m grateful that I’m out of the tower. It would have been very easy for me to have never learned about any of this.”

He went to say his thanks and goodbyes, and then stopped. “Actually,” he added. “One last thing: my tower was very literal. And everyone somehow missed that I was being trapped inside it. Including me. Just… I guess if I want anyone to learn something from this, it’s to watch out for other people’s towers,” he suggested. “And that’s all from me, folks. Thanks for your time.”

Steve took Tony’s hand as they left the room.

“You were amazing,” he said, and lifted Tony’s hand to kiss the back of it.

Tony smiled.

* * *

 

It wasn’t all good.

Sometimes, actually, it was really shit. That’s the thing about life not being a fairy tale: you don’t get a ‘happily ever after’. You get PTSD and health issues and a lot of confusion over how the world works.

Around a week after Tony saved himself, he and Steve had a screaming fight that Tony thought was the end of them. Steve had wanted Tony to see a therapist – apparently Steve had been seeing one at SHIELD’s behest, considering his accidental time-travel. Tony had been adamant that he didn’t want or need therapy, which was obviously bullshit, but when Steve kept insisting it made something burst inside of Tony.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” he shouted at Steve, too loud in the little bedroom that they were sharing. Tony had his own, down the hall, but he hadn’t slept in it even once.

Steve had been keeping a lid on his frustration up until this argument, but apparently the lid had flown off at this point. “I’m telling you what to do because you don’t know what’s good for you!” he insisted, voice raised.

“And what, I’m supposed to just do what _you_ want me to do now? What, are you my new Obie?” Tony had asked, and it probably wasn’t fair, but he didn’t care.

Steve had stared at Tony for several long moments, and then turned and silently left the room.

Tony was sure that was it. It was stupid to think that he could just fall into a relationship with Captain fucking America just because they’d had some kind of flirtation when Tony had been in his tower. Tony had no idea how to be with people.

And so while Steve was gone, Tony had convinced himself that this was inevitable.

He wasn’t good enough for Captain America. Steve had a temper problem and control issues and his own PTSD to contend with, but unlike Tony, he was good down to his core. Tony was the Merchant of Death. How could he ever have thought that this would work?

After sitting on the bed for almost an hour, convincing himself that this was inevitable and Steve was right to leave him now rather than later, Tony had stood up and started to collect his things. He didn’t have many of them, because he had thus far refused to go back to the tower and also hadn’t given anyone else permission to go into his floors. He had some new clothing, and some tech he had made, and some toiletries. He didn’t even have a bag to keep them in, but he thought that Steve would probably lend him a bag to transport his stuff to his room down the hall, so he started loading things into Steve’s duffel bag.

That was when Steve walked back in, wiping sweat from his brow as if he’d just come back from a hard workout.

He stared at Tony. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice so much smaller than before but somehow hugely loud in the silent room.

Tony refused to meet his eyes. “Uh, I was just borrowing your bag to move my things, I’ll give it back,” he said.

And then Steve ducked into his field of vision, forcing Tony to look at him.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, a frown on his lovely features, and hurt distinct and unmistakable in the lines around his eyes.

Tony hesitated. “I thought we already broke up.”

Steve blinked, the lines clearing away as his frown softened. “What? When did we break up?” Tony didn’t know how to react to that, exactly – hadn’t it been obvious? – but then Steve pressed on: “Did you want to break up?”

“No,” Tony replied, confused and hurt by this whole situation.

Steve’s arms folded around him. “Well, I think it takes at least one of us wanting to break up for that to happen,” he said, resting his chin on atop Tony’s messy hair. “So I think that maybe we haven’t broken up.”

Tony didn’t understand what was happening, exactly, but he was so relieved by Steve’s arms around him that he found he didn’t care. “Okay,” he said, and hid his face in Steve’s shirt.

* * *

 

That wasn’t the only thing that had been shit. Tony had basically no concept of how to live in the world outside of his tower. And while most of the time it was fine – largely because Steve was confused by the 21st Century and Thor was confused by Earth and humanity, which made him feel less weird – sometimes people would give Tony this _poor boy trapped in a tower_ look, and Tony hated it.

But the worst thing of all was that Steve was right, and Tony did need therapy.

He realised this after one awful incident in the mansion. The day had begun as well as any day could – he had been kissed awake by Steve, who was getting ready to leave for a meeting at SHIELD. Aside from Steve leaving and not being convinced to stay in bed, it was Tony’s favourite way to wake up. And when Steve had pulled back to leave, he had smiled down at Tony and said, “I’ll be back before you know it. Let’s do something today, just you and me.”

“I can think of a few things,” Tony suggested, and then pulled him back down by fisting a hand in his hair.

Steve kissed him, gentle and unhurried, and then pulled away and turned his head to kiss the inside of Tony’s wrist. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised, and then left.

Tony had felt really, deliriously happy. And then he had gotten up and walked downstairs to the kitchen in his pyjamas and dressing gown, and poured himself some coffee, and then everything went horribly wrong.

He had been thinking about upgrades to the suit, something to make it waterproof in case he ever needed to go under the water, and then he thought about how he’d still never seen a beach, and maybe he and Steve could go today—

And then everything had just felt so huge. The world felt too big, stretching out around him. The kitchen felt too big. There was no structure to anything. Everything was so open, too open, how did anyone ever do anything? How did anyone go anywhere without getting lost?

After some time, Tony realised that he had sunk to sit on the floor, and he crawled into a corner on shaking limbs, yearning for something to be closed around him. It wasn’t good enough. He could still see out into the wide stretch of the kitchen. He drew his knees up and put his head down, facing into the corner, desperately trying to find safety.

He had no idea how much time passed, but after a while he realised that he was being talked to.

“… hear me, Tony?” Bruce’s voice came through. “Did you find him like this?”

“Yeah,” Clint replied. God, fuck, it was _Clint_ of all people. “I just walked in and he was like this, and not responding.”

There was a hand on his arm, Tony realised. How long had there been a hand on his arm.

The voices swam away and back in, and then Tony realised that Steve was there, too.

“Steve?” Tony asked, trying to lift his head, even though something primal inside him was telling him to stay down.

Steve’s hand was warm and huge when it landed on his forearm. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s me.”

“Barf,” Clint added, helpfully.

“Do you think you could look up?” Steve asked, his voice soft. Tony felt him run his warm hand through Tony’s hair. “For me?”

Tony tried, he really did. “No,” he admitted. “Could you hold me?”

And so Steve leaned in and held Tony, rocked him a little, as Tony fended off the rest of the panic. Eventually, he managed to breathe properly, and he pulled away from Steve just enough to raise his head and look around.

Everything was a little blurry in his vision. He blinked several times, trying to clear it. “Uh… Sorry about that,” he said.

Bruce was sitting in front of him, fiddling with his glasses. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he said. “It isn’t your fault. Has that happened before?”

“No?” Tony replied, still leaning into Steve. “Oh, uh. Yes, I guess. It felt a bit like what happened on the jet, that first time I came outside.”

Bruce nodded. “I thought so,” he said. “You had an anxiety attack. Possibly with some agoraphobia. It’s to be expected,” he assured them. “You spent your whole life in one space. Of course your mind is going to have a hard time adjusting.”

Tony sighed. “I guess you should give me the name of that therapist,” he admitted to Steve.

* * *

 

It wasn’t all bad, though. In fact, it was somewhere around 88.56% good.

For a start, the Avengers moving into Stark Mansion was the best thing that had ever happened in all of history, as far as Tony was concerned, with the sole exceptions of Steve and freedom. After a few days of awkwardness, of trying to figure out what it meant to share space, Natasha had walked in on Steve and Tony trying to explain why same-sex relations weren’t accepted by everyone to a confused and offended Thor. She had taken one look at them and said, “My god, it’s the blind leading the blind,” and chosen some movie to explain the evolution of LGBT rights in America, and thus movie night had been born.

Movie night was every Thursday, unless they were needed to suit up. It was Tony’s favourite night. He sat next to Steve on a really comfy couch, and ate popcorn, and sometimes threw popcorn at the screen with Bruce when the movie science was bad. Clint was his buddy in repeating all the cheesy romance lines with dramatic pauses and gestures, and Natasha was a sneaky snack assassin but she gave a surprisingly good foot rub, and Thor was bewildered and excited by everything. And Steve, of course, was Steve. He let Tony lean against him, and he kissed Tony’s temple when he was being obnoxious, and Tony loved him.

Also, Tony got to be a superhero, which was pretty fucking awesome. Of course it sometimes came with workplace hazards, like getting injured, or being afraid for his teammates, or that one time a villain had made his armour melt off him and he was only wearing a red thong. Although that might have been worth it for Steve’s face.

* * *

 

Of course, Tony did have to go back to the tower. It was where his company was based. He might decide to change that, but for now, he kept as many things the same as he could.

Tony turned up for a meeting with his board, and with Pepper Potts, who was going to be promoted as soon as Tony found a suitable position for her. He was fortunate that after the initial plummet after the Iron Men fight, his numbers had skyrocketed. People loved the idea that Tony had escaped, and was healthy, and was taking his rightful place as the heir to Stark Industries.

“I don’t know how these things are usually meant to go,” Tony admitted, “but I’m just going to be blunt. We’re shutting down on all weapons. And we’re going to solve the world’s energy crisis. So I hope you’re all ready to be a part of history.”

* * *

 

Tony and Steve did end up going to Tony’s first beach, but the other Avengers invited themselves along and then Clint insisted that they had to take the jet to California to see a ‘real beach’. So they took some time off, and Tony got to lie on golden sand and watch the waves, and eventually Thor dragged him into the ocean with the enthusiasm of a particularly excited puppy.

When the sun started to go down, Bruce and Natasha made a bonfire, and Tony lay down next to it and looked at the stars. Eventually, he felt Steve lie down next to him, and he turned to look at Steve instead. It was an even better sight.

“One day,” Steve said, voice quiet enough that only Tony could hear it, “I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

Tony smiled. “One day, I’m going to say yes,” he replied.

* * *

 

Tony also went back to his own part of the tower, eventually – the three floors which had once been his entire world. He went to collect his bots and his more important belongings. He also wanted to take JARVIS offline from here and have his main station be the mansion, and to sign off that these floors could be gutted out and made into offices.

Steve and Natasha came with him for that, ostensibly just to help him carry things, but Tony knew that they were there for moral support more than anything.

The tower looked so much smaller to him, now. He supposed it was because he knew how huge the world was, in a way that he hadn’t really known before. It seemed crazy to him that he had once been confined to this space.

Tony probably owed his lack of anxiety attack to the therapist he’d been seeing at SHIELD.

When they were ready to go, Tony took a long look at the window nook and the painted window. He wasn’t sure, looking back, how he had always thought that Obie was on his side. He still sometimes missed Obie, which made him furious because he shouldn’t miss the man who had stolen so many years of his life. But once, he had relied on Obie almost completely. Obie had been safe. He’d been home.

He had also been his prison guard.

“Let’s go,” he said to Steve and Natasha, and turned his back on the painted window, and didn’t look back.


End file.
